Forgiveness is Hard to Come By
by I'maWanderer
Summary: After five years Katniss sends a letter to Gale saying she misses him. She never expects him to reply back. Now her and Peeta are going to visit him in District 2. Set after MJ. First fanfic and constructive crictism is welcome.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Letter.

My fingers tighten around the pen while I glare furiously at the piece of paper in front of me.

Why did it have to be so hard to say? Why was I even writing this letter anyway? I should just forget about him. But I can't seem to let go of him. He killed my sister, so why was I still sitting here? I should just get up and walk away now…On the count of three. One…Two…Three. Maybe not. I can't make myself leave the desk.

The pen in my hands falls back to the paper again. The words coming out angrily.

_Gale. I miss you against all the odds. How is it in District two? Greasy Sae said you were on television but to be honest I never seem to have the time to sit down and watch what's on. The point to this letter, the reason I'm writing even when I promised myself I would never speak of you again, is because I miss you. I think if I send this to you I can let you go. If you don't reply I understand. If you shove this in a drawer I understand that too. If you burn it, I deserve it._

_Katniss Everdeen._

This makes no sense. _I deserve it_…I deserve what? I did nothing. He's the one who killed my little sister…

Prim. My throat closes up at the thought of her. My little sister.

With shaking hands I clumsily fold the letter in half and stick it in an envelope. I seal it then carefully pen out the address Plutarch tells me is Gale's address. Knowing Gale he'll never answer my letter and that's more than fine with me. I just needed my emotions out on page, to let him know how I feel, even if it was a short letter.

"Katniss?" Peeta calls in concern from the kitchen. "Are you okay?"

I wrench open the study door and make my way into the kitchen. "Fine," I say as I sink into one of the wooden chairs by the table. Peeta's busy making lunch but I feel like I might retch at any moment.

"You were in there for almost two hours," Peeta says with a frown. "I was starting to think you fell asleep on me."

I force myself not to look guilty, but I'm sure I still do. I must because Peeta's frown deepens and he leaves the stove to sit next to me. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and kisses my forehead gently. In response I rest my head against his shoulder and sigh deeply.

"What's the matter?" Peeta asks running a hand through his blonde hair leaving behind a trail of flour. I laugh in spite of myself at the sight, feeling momentarily like everything might be like it was.

Peeta raises a flour caked eyebrow at me but all I do is laugh harder. The laughs turn hysterical and soon I'm hiccupping while laughing. Nerves I guess. I continue to laugh until Peeta is forced to kiss me to shut me up.

This isn't a half hearted kiss brought on by the Capitol, this is my own passion. My own raw passion intermingled with his. My fingers weave their way to his hair, knotting it with my fingers to pull him even closer to me. His, warm broad, hands caressing my cheeks, gently.

When the oven timer beeps we're forced to break away, both of us gasping for air. I'm sure I have floury battle scars on my cheeks and meet Peeta's vivid blue eyes. But instead of blue, I see gray. The exact same colour as Gale's. I stiffen on his lap, blink and they return to their normal colour. _What the hell?_ I think. Then I start to wonder how I ended up on Peeta's lap.

"I better get that," he says smiling. That's the thing he can't _stop_ smiling now.

"Do you have to?" I ask, "I mean it's just bread."

"Yes I have to," He says caressing my cheek once again then he swiftly slides me off his lap so he can get the bread before it burns.

I watch with ridiculous interest as he takes out the bread with expert hands. I feel like a love sick school girl, stalking him around the house the way I do. Almost never letting go of him, unless absolutely, necessary. It must be tiring for him, but I don't want to let go of him. I lost him more than I care to think about and I don't plan on losing him again, because I feel like if I let go of him for just a second he'll be taken away for good.

"Who's the letter for?" He asks nodding toward the letter lying carelessly on the table.

I bite my lip considering lying but decide on the truth, because if Gale does write back against all odds it'll be harder to explain in the long run. So I force the words out through stiff lips, "Gale."

There's no change in Peeta's face or body posture which makes me think he's okay with all of this. Once again proving his…Easygoing nature. How on Earth did I deserve someone like him? "Why?" He asks again conversationally.

"My exact same question."

He comes to sit beside me again clasping my hand tightly in his. "You miss him Katniss." He says simply.

I'm too numb to speak, I feel like I just got hit with a blunt object in the chest. It's one thing to write down what you know on paper but an entirely different thing to hear it spoken. To my intense surprise I feel wet tears slide down my cheeks. I never cry, but I'm crying now. For everything I ever lost. My father, my mother (who hasn't contacted me in ages) Prim and Gale. But to be honest mostly Gale.

Peeta holds me gently, rocking me back and forth as he rubs my back in soothing patterns. "It'll be okay Katniss, it'll be okay. Everything will work out. Gale will write back I promise."

"How can you promise that?" I hiccup through the sobs. "How can you promise me anything?" I sound near hysterical and feel even more hysterical than my voice.

"I can't, love." He murmurs in my ear. "No one can assure anything."

I bury my head into his shoulder, already done with my crying spree. At least it was quick. "I –I-need to-go-to-to-the-woods." I stutter, feeling like if I don't get outside soon I'll scream. I need the woods, my savior. The one place I feel like I really belong. The one place where Gale and I were really connected on a deep level. The woods that belong to Gale and I. I haven't had the heart to take Peeta there yet. I always tell him I'll get around to it, but something always _conveniently_ pops up. I think he sees through me though. Understanding is one of Peeta's best qualities.

"You can't go out now. Have you looked outside?"

No I haven't, but it doesn't matter to me. I need out. "Please, I think I might scream if I don't. I'll just go the mail box and back." I plead pathetically. Peeta's frowning and not liking the idea of me going alone. "You can even come with me if you want! Just…Please."

Peeta considers this for what seems like a long time and I feel closer to bursting now than ever.

"Alright," he finally says.

"Thank you," I say, sighing. One small victory down.

"Would you like to go now?"

"Yes!" I almost scream, jumping up and almost knocking over the table in my haste. I throw my arms around his neck and proceed to kiss his cheek. "Yes! Thank you, thank you THANK YOU!" I don't know why it's so important but it seems monumental to me.

I grab my winter coat from the couch where I left it last night and quickly slide it on, excitedly. Again the giddy school girl bit. What's gotten into me? Love, I tell myself. Love. I slide on my hunting boots and wait impatiently for Peeta to join me.

"So what's for dinner tonight?" I ask as I open up the front door, it's yanked out my hand by a sudden gust of wind and I'm blown sideways. I can see what Peeta meant by not going into the woods today. It feels like nighttime the way the clouds are looming overhead. Rain is coming down in torrents and the trees are being attacked viscously by the freezing wind. There's a nasty storm coming our way. The wind howls in my ears and another violent gust of wind sends me to the ground on my butt. "Ow," I whimper, my tailbone is going to be sore tomorrow.

With concern written all over his face, Peeta bends down to help me up.

I wince but hobble forward, Peeta, my rock, supporting me every step of the way. We keep our heads down to fight off the heavy wind that blows our hair around like crazy. More than once we're sent stumbling backwards, and I'm starting to think that this trip was all in vain.

When the mail box finally comes into view we're both soaked to the bone and my teeth are chattering like you wouldn't believe.

"Here goes nothing," I mutter to myself and stuff the letter into the large black mailbox. I can only hope that Gale receives it. It all rests with the mailing system now. If they lose it, it's no loss to us.

Then remembering the real excuse I had for going outside in this monsoon, I throw back my head and scream. A long high pitched note that's carried away in the wind. I scream until my voice is hoarse and all that's left is me standing in the middle of a raging storm, with my head tilted back with no sound coming out and rain falling into my mouth.

It feels good and all the anger has left my body filling me with this numb empty feeling that I hate. The emptiness is eating away at me, until there's nothing left. That's when I start crying again. I stay rooted in place and don't move, like a statue. And even though the wind is biting me to the bone I can't.

Peeta tugs on my hand trying to get me to move, because it's not safe to stand out in a storm, but I won't budge. He picks me bridal style and carries me back to home with my head buried into his winter coat.

It's a long journey back home with me being the useless lump I am in Peeta's arms. He constantly has to stop to regain his grip on me. I try to make the journey easy for him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I should get up and walk but the house is looming into view, so I continue to allow him to baby me. It feels nice, someone taking care of me for a change instead of it being the other way around. I had been the caretaker of my family since the age of eleven, as my mother wasn't much of a mother. Proof is that she left me for district four. I can understand her motives but still…A phone call every now and again would've been nice.

I look down at the house next to ours, the lights are on but knowing Haymitch he's probably passed out drunk. At the thought of him, I grow resentful. It's been years since I've talked to him, he's still kicking. I see him in town every once in a while. Always buying liquor.

It takes some readjusting but eventually we're able to get the front door open.

I stare numbly at the portraits that we pass trying not to see Prim's face or my father's smile. I close my eyes feeling exhausted from all this stress.

Peeta lays me down on my bed, and then leaves me alone to do whatever he wants. All I do is kick off my boots, change into a pair of fleece pajamas and crawl under the covers, still shivering.

The book Peeta and I created is lying on my bedside table, and with frozen fingers I open it to the first page and stare blankly at Prim's beautiful face. I try to compensate the years that's she's been dead and how she would look at this moment if she was alive. But the only thing my mind can conjure up is the last glimpse of her face before she was turned into a human torch. Disgusted I turn the page and look at all my dead friends. There's a drawing of Boggs and then there's Rue with her dark skin and dark hair looking like a small bird. Then there's a photo Annie graciously gave to us of Finnick and taped under that is the picture of his son he'll never know.

"Should call Annie and see how's she's doing," I say to myself knowing I never will call her.

I have to shut the book because unpleasant memories are trying to make themselves known. I fling the book onto the dresser across the room and hear it land with a dull thud.

Downstairs I can hear Peeta murmuring to someone at the door.

"Thanks for stopping by. See you around." He says then the door closes, there's some clattering in the kitchen and Peeta is trudging his way heavily up the stairs. He knocks politely on my door before entering it. I keep reminding him that this house is his as much as it's mine but he knocks.

"Come in."

The door opens and Peeta walks in with a tray of food. He must not deem me fit to walk. I could object but I don't. This is all so over the top that it feels ridiculous to have him treat me this way but he just shakes his head at me when I open my mouth to protest.

He sits down next to me, carefully placing the tray on my lap. I look at what he's laid out in front of me. Lamb stew with generous slices of fresh baked bread. Enough for the two of us.

I dig into the stew and find it's really quite delicious, he must've added spices of some sort because it's great. We make casual dinner conversation, or he talks and I listen.

"So that was Hazelle downstairs. Came by to see you, but I told her you were sleeping and to come back tomorrow," he says brushing away a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of the braid.

It should irk me that he told Hazelle to go away but then I remind myself that I told him to treat this house like it was his own. Because as it is he lives here now.

"Thanks, I don't really want company. You know with the whole…" I trail off. "I mean if Gale writes back I'll tell her but honestly I don't think he will. Forgiveness isn't exactly Gale's foray." Jeez, I sound lovesick. Talking about Gale this much when I've barely spoken a word of him since the day I shot Coin. That doesn't mean he wasn't in my thoughts. He was in them frequently, more than I liked to admit but I never told anyone that.

I get no reply and Peeta becomes very interested in the cup of tea in front of him. Even dropping in a scoop of sugar which I'm sure is a first for him. Keeping his eye on the murky cup of tea in his hand as he stirs he says; "We'll just have to wait and see won't we?" He lifts his head to smile at me halfheartedly but it looks forced.

There I go again. Hurting Peeta by mentioning Gale. I had vowed to never hurt Peeta again and here I go piercing him in the heart with a rusty knife. I clamp my mouth shut to stop the flow of words that are fighting to get out.

"Thanks for all this," I say, hoping to ease the tension, as I gesture to the set up in front of me. "It feels over the top but given the circumstances I'll let it pass." A small smile, although slightly grim, creeps up onto my lips.

"Don't mention it."

I help myself to a slice of bread and can't help but notice the small sly smile tugging at the corners of Peeta's lips. Something is up, I'm tempted to ask but I don't ask preferring to ask later.

I dip the corner of the white bread into the remains of the stew and take a small bite. It's nice and soft and still warm. I'm about halfway through the bread when my tooth hits something hard. I lean back to examine the slice of bread. Just barely visible is something wrapped in wax paper.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pray. _Oh please don't let it be what I think it is. Please don't be that. Please not that. Not that. Anything but that._ I'm not ready for that. It's too soon. Too soon. I'll break his heart if it is what I think it is. What do I say? Yes? No? What will happen to us if I say no? I can't lose him. In that I know I have my answer.

Slowly I open my eyes, still hoping it's not what I think it is. With trembling fingers I ease the piece of wax paper out of the bread. It's _exactly_ what I thought it was. _Oh no_ I think.

Nestled in the gauzy wax paper is a ring. A simple gold band with a small –I'm talking really small. Bless his heart for knowing I hate anything godly. – White diamond. My mouth hangs open in shock, unable to speak.

I bite on my lip to the point where it busted and I taste blood in my mouth. "Is-Is this…?" I can't form a complete sentence I'm so taken aback. Obviously I expected this from him at some point but not so soon. I'm only twenty four for crying out loud!

Peeta takes my free hand in his and grabs my chin so I have to look at him. I drop my eyes so I can gaze at-at the _thing _in my palm.

"Katniss?" There's a hint of worry in his voice and it only steels my resolve. I can't hurt him. But I have to, I'm not ready. _Please don't hate me for this._ I think.

"Yeah…." I look up at him and see a strange kind of fire in those gentle blue eyes.

"Katniss Everdeen will you marry me?" There's no smile in his voice, instead he looks frail like he might shatter.

My lips are just forming the _n _in _no _when I unexpectedly –well unexpected to me- break into a huge grin. "Yes. Yes I'll marry you."

**Sorry for the cheesy ending in the first chapter but um…I got carried away. Hehe. If someone is OOC tell me and I'll do my best to put them back in. I already have a beta reader so I don't need another. I don't really have internet right now, it's off and on, so I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up! But it will be eventually and hopefully soon.**


	2. Gale's Letter

**I was so impressed with the feedback I got! Thanks a lot guys! This chapter is probably the shortest yet. **

**Disclaimer: Let's I'm fourteen, with a whole lot of shoes and clothes. Nope definitely NOT Suzanne Collins. *Updated for typo, sorry but it was bugging me.**

Every day I would walk to the mailbox to get the letters. Always hoping that one day I'd find one addressed from Gale. No such thing occurs and I can't say I'm not disappointed. Because I am. Because somewhere deep inside of me had started to hope. I was at least expecting him to send the letter back without opening it. Nothing ever comes up.

In the morning, two weeks later, I'm just sliding into a seat at the kitchen table when I realize the kitchen is empty. This is slightly peculiar because I remember Peeta waking up early this morning, from a nightmare probably because he was mumbling to himself. Maybe he's outside or something.

The front door opens with a BANG and I swivel around in my chair, half expecting President Snow to come in to arrest me. This happens often and I have to frequently remind myself that he's dead and can't touch me now.

It's only Peeta dusting off the snow from his light hair with a thin stack of papers in his hands. He's flipping through them unaware I'm less than twenty feet away. He pauses near the end of a stack and his face turns into a stone mask. Which means only one thing: Gale.

He wrote back! Maybe it's not too late to repair what was left of our shattered relationship. Beyond the shock I feel relief. Relief that he doesn't hate me? I don't think it's that. It makes no sense, because when he went to District 2, I felt relief? Was the relief from something else?

I jump up, the chair falling over behind me, and race over to Peeta. "Is that what I think it is?" I ask feeling breathless.

He raises his head to smile at me then hands me the letter that could hold any amount of emotion. Knowing Gale it'll be a lot of resentment and not a lot of love. It's just who he is, something I had to accept. I don't think I've fully come to terms with it yet either.

I retrieve the letter opener from its place in the drawer in the study, and curl up on the couch next to the blazing fire. After the storm blew itself out we got dumped with snow, some drifts taller than my head.

Excitedly I rip open the envelope and toss it into the fire. I already knew the address so it's not like there was a point in keeping the envelope. I grab a quilt from the back of the couch and drape it over me, because I'm shivering.

Peeta makes his way over to me and I lean my head against his shoulder so we can read the letter together. He's freezing! Like he fell in a snowdrift. Probably did with that leg of his…That would explain why he looks like a snowman.

I unfold the letter and smooth it out on my knee before reading it. In Gale's rough handwriting, that didn't look like his, he wrote:

_Katniss._ _I have to admit I'm surprised you wrote to me. How's my family? I miss you too; I guess you're with him now. Maybe we should try again now that we've both cooled off. After all it's been years. The weather here is horrible, maybe we can try when the weather is more permitting. June works well. If you write back I'll assume you'll come visit me. I understand if you don't. You never were the forgiving type… As for my work I sit behind a desk all day. Not much to say other than that. _

_Gale._

I raise an eyebrow at the letter, what no hi how are you? Just a _how's my family._ Either way I expected it. But it does hurt a bit, a sort of numb stinging like from a needle. Expect it's in my heart, not my arm. I shoot a glance at…My fiancée. It's not like I can possibly worm my way around that word. "Well?" I ask. "What do you think?"

"I think it's worth a shot." Peeta says. He's frowning at the letter like something about it isn't sitting right with him. I have to agree, something is really bugging me about that letter.

"Won't it be awkward for you though?" I ask, tilting my head to look at him.

"I'm sure it will be for all of us but we'll manage. We always did." If he says that relationship between the three of us was manageable then I _hate_ to see what he deemed unmanageable. That relationship from far from being manageable. Or maybe that was just me, being in the middle of all of it. Gale hadn't looked like he was too happy with the little triangle going on either. Peeta just has extraordinary patience. Not all of us are gifted with it either.

"So what you're saying is that we'll all hold knives to each other throats?" I joke trying to sound lighthearted, but it sounds flat and serious.

He narrows his eyes at the comment. "No, well you and Gale can if necessary. And I hope it doesn't come to that." He pauses for a moment. "So are you going to write back or what?"

I leap up at those words and grab a sheet of paper. I'm not sure why I was waiting for his consent, because with or without it I would write back. I can't believe he wrote back, it still seems hazy and I think it must all be a joke. Visit him? He must be joking. I thought he would never speak to me again let alone come visit him.

As my pen comes down to reply I stop short. The pen goes through the paper and marks the knee of my pajamas. Something's bugging me about that letter. But I can't tell what. Something is _off_. In parts it didn't sound like Gale at all. But if it wasn't Gale who would be writing back? What would even be the point? I brush it off; telling myself it's been over five years. Some things are bound to change.

Over five years, that's longer than I've known him.

Still it's bugging me. Is an enemy posing as Gale to lure us in and kill us? It seems unlikely, but not entirely impossible. Well we'll find out soon enough. I wasn't exactly getting creepy vibe from it.

I don't know what to say so I scrawl out two lines.

_Sounds great. When?_

I raise an eyebrow at Peeta, asking him if there's anything you could add to this letter. He shakes his head tossing around his ashy blonde hair.

"Let's keep this short and simple." He says.

I manage a nod then stuff it into an envelope. There's nothing to do now but wait. The roads won't be open again until it's cleared. Judging by the way it's still snowing I'm guessing it could be a while. The suspense will kill me.

Waiting, I was never good with waiting. At least not when it involved Gale. I can still imagine the way he looked when we first met, but the image is quickly shunted aside and replaced with Prim as the bombs went off. Every time I look at his face, she will be accompanied by it. There is no fourteen year old Gale anywhere. Even if he hadn't given the OK for the bombs –I had to keep telling myself repeatedly. It was the only thing that stopped me from hating him entirely and even _that_ took a couple years- it was still his and Beetee's idea wasn't it?

I curl into a ball with my legs up to my chest and my head resting on my knees with my arms wrapped around my head as if I can hold off the memories that way. But I can't and they're coming anyway.

A low moan escapes my lips as I squeeze my eyes shut. It doesn't work, the dark doesn't help, only allows you to see the picture clearer. And today is no exception. The dark never helps; it doesn't ward off nightmares it only brings them on. I had started sleeping with a night light. As I guessed it didn't work, there was no comfort in them. The only comfort is knowing Peeta was right there beside me, holding me tightly trying to ward off his own nightmares, and that in itself was a small consolation.

"Sh, what's the matter?" Peeta asks rubbing my back slowly, methodically. It helps me relax.

"It's just –every time I – picture- or-or even think-of Gale I see Prim." I whisper between dry coughs.

"It'll be okay."

"Okay? How can it be okay if we're going to visit him and I'll be looking in his face and the whole time I'll be watching Prim die over and over in my head? _How is that okay?_"

I don't see it but I'm sure Peeta grimaces.

It takes a few weeks but eventually the roads are cleared and I can mail the letter. In those weeks we discussed wedding plans and I continually stared at the ring half expecting it to disappear and wake up.

I stare at the letter for a moment, wondering if this is the right thing to do and if it's good for me mentally and emotionally. It'll be fine, I tell myself.

The wind is biting at my face, blowing stray flakes of snow around me in a little dance. I want to get inside, to the warm fire roaring in our fireplace. Instead I continue to stare at the letter.

So, gathering the rest of my courage I drop the envelope in the mailbox. It lands with a dull thud and as soon as I hear the sound I want to reach in and grab it back. I just want to burn it right now. But I made a decision and I must stick to it.

I bit my chapped lip and trudge back to the house. Pulling my thick wool coat tighter around my body. The blue shade of my coat matches the December sky exactly.

I slam the door behind me; kick off my boots and cross the grand living room to the sit beside the hearth. I quietly tend the flames. Where's Peeta? Usually I hear him stumbling around, doing something.

"Peeta?" I call cautiously, wondering if he's having some kind of awful flashback. If so I should go find him. I stand up the poker still in my hands. I listen with hunters' senses listening for some kind of sign of life.

There's nothing. I curl up beside the fire and close my eyes.

Upstairs a door closes silently and the heavy tread of Peeta fills the house as he makes his way downstairs. "Katniss," He says softly.

My eyes pop open and I roll over to look at him, there's dark green paint smeared in his hair and sky blue, orange and yellow on his cheeks. Painting, I should've known. How he got paint all over him I'll never now. But for the moment he looks ridiculous.

He's changed in these past years, gone from a boy to a man too fast. With two Hunger Games under our belt and the rebellion both of us have grown up too fast. We both look over our shoulders at times to make sure we are not being chased. We've both changed, physically and mentally.

Like I said, some things are bound to change. And there's no stopping them.

**I'm not a review junkie (yet at least) so like reviews but I won't hold out on you guys if I don't get reviews. **

**Song for this Chapter: My Heart by Paramore. **

**To be honest I just chose it randomly. **

**As for Chapter one (because I forgot to put it up) the song is: Last Night on Earth by Greenday.**


	3. Girl On Fire

**Happy Thanksgiving Canadians! I had a great dinner!**

**Just a little note (I'm trying to cut down on these, tell me if you enjoy the little notes I put up) I don't usually change POV's because I don't like to and I heard someone it's not proper. So I never change POV's unless I consider it necessary. I sort of considered this necessary, but not really. More of a filler chapter than anything else. So I'm just saying don't expect too many of these. Of course if you all say you would like a chapter in someone else's POV's I might comply.**

Chapter 3: The Girl on Fire

(Gale pov)

I wake up early in the morning with a start. Drenched in a cold sweat with the covers half off my bed. It's been a long time since Katniss Everdeen has starred in my dreams. And even longer than since her name has touched my lips. Okay, kidding myself. I _do_ talk about her. I haven't talked of her since the letter came, most unexpectedly too. I was under the impression she hated me.

Sleep is impossible now, so I get up and leave the bedroom. Its early morning. No one would dare be up at this time. At least no sane person. Unless they were a hunter or just couldn't sleep. For me it's both. Once a hunter always a hunter.

The study is empty, of course. It's hard to believe I even have a _study_ in this house. Hard to believe I have a house not filled with screaming children. And hot water! We didn't have hot water back in the Seam, you had to boil it. Now I actually have extra rooms, like a study all to my own and a bedroom to myself. I can never tell if I like the extra space or not. I guess it's nice but I miss the clutter of my mom's home.

I creep to the study, ease the door open and take a seat in the chair behind the desk and let my head slam into it with a jarring BANG! It hurts, but it helps clear my mind.

I run my fingers along the grained pattern in the wood absent mindedly. I let my mind wander and it wanders back to my mom in District 12. I feel bad that I left her but I absolutely _could not_ stay in District 12. Not when Katniss had chosen Peeta over me. Not when my heart had been so freshly broken. So my decision was to go away to some other district, leave my family and forget all about the girl on fire. Alright so maybe I'm a little jealous but that's natural right? Sorry, I _was_ jealous.

I had gotten lucky here, in District Two. Plutarch had gotten me a good job, I had a nice house and I was paid well. Maybe a little too well, because I never knew how to handle money, used to scrounging around for spare change, and most of the time it just gathers dust in the bank. Now that I had more than enough I wasn't actually sure what to do with it. Most of the time, I sent it to my family. I mean what am _I_ going to do with extra money? After all these years I still find it strange to walk into a bank and take out any amount of money I please and stranger still to go to bed with a full stomach.

As much as I hate sitting behind a desk all day in a suit, it's better than the mines.

I don't know how long I sat there, thinking about nothing that matters. I watched the sky lighten in the window across the room. Finally, I open up one of the little drawers, quietly so the gears don't squeak. I live for silence. Nestled inside is battered dark green notebook. Maybe battered is too kind of a word for it. There's a coffee stain on it and the thick cover is curled downward at the edges. The spine is almost non- existent but other than that, it's in _great_ condition. I guess it's a diary of some sort but it's really more of a way to put all those words I can't say on paper. And there seem to be more words on there then I thought I had.

Katniss is mentioned quite frequently in this journal, it's lessened over the years but every now and again she makes herself known in some way. And ever since the letter she hasn't been off my mind.

I open it to a fresh page, stained with coffee and take out a pen. My pen is just hitting the paper when my stomach growls. I should eat.

I amble my way down the stairs quietly, with the hunters' tread I developed at a young age. Past the, cluttered, living room, that needs to be cleaned, and into the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee for myself, enough for four cups, which is more than enough. Coffee had been expensive back when Snow was still in control, now I can afford it. Back when I was seven my father had brought home a cup of coffee as a treat for the family to share and I had hated the bitter taste at the time, but I've grown fond of it.

Things had been looking up these past years. People were getting paid decently, and weren't dying from starvation. Well at least not as often. Paylor was good in command, of course she made stupid mistakes at times but didn't we all?

I eat my breakfast slowly without tasting it then climb back up the steep stairs to the study, taking my cup of black coffee with me.

_It's been a while, _I think as I sit down. The last entry was a year ago. The page is begging to be filled so I comply willingly. _December 12__th__._ _I dreamt about her again. Katniss. When will she stop sneaking up on me? When will she stop sneaking up me? God, I hate her…_ As I write I start to think, _maybe I don't want her to stop creeping her way back into memories. Maybe I want her there_. I stop the thought dead in its tracks. Because I _do not_ want her in my mind, her name bouncing off the walls of my skull like a broken record player.

I fill up two pages in the journal and feel more relaxed after. More serene.

I'm done for now so I close the book and tuck it away into its drawer where it's safe from harm's way and hidden from curious eyes.

What else is there to do? Wait? Wait for what? It seems like I've spent my whole life waiting. Waiting to be reaped, waiting for Katniss to say I love you. No! I must not think that now. Not when I'm happy the way life is. Not when my heart has finally mended. And most certainly not when I've finally got over Miss. Katniss Everdeen. Or is it Mrs. Katniss Mellark now? The thought makes the coffee in my hand tremble in their glass. Just the idea makes me seethes.

Katniss married, the very idea is unlikely. Married with kids? Even more unlikely. Although some things are probably different now. Would she want kids when she was no longer in fear that they would be reaped? I find it unlikely that would change; it was so branded into her brain.

What a pair those two are. One is mentally unstable and the other mentally disturbed. A prefect couple.

_Why do I even care?_ I tell myself. I don't care, not at all. And why would I? I have no love for Katniss.

I have to place the mug of coffee on the desk before it spills all over the hardwood. I grasp it tightly between my fingers while I stare the black bottomless abyss that is my mug. I have to remind myself it's not bottomless and that there is an end like everything else in this life.

The ceramic cup shatters spraying coffee and shards of the cup everywhere. I curse loudly, saying a bunch of colourful words that should have never left my mouth and run to the bathroom quietly to grab a towel. I end up smearing the white door to the bathroom with my blood and I make a mental note to clean it up after. I rinse my hands to clean them then grab a cleaning rag and go back to clean up the mess.

When I've wiped up the coffee as best I could I sit with my back against the wall and carefully take out all the shards from the mug out of my hands. It's not easy because those damn shards are ridiculously tiny! The flow of blood has finally stopped and I wonder how I'll explain this. Best to tell the truth, but not all of it. No need to say I dreamt about _her_.

I go back and clean the door as best as I can. When that's done I bleach the rag and throw it into the dirty laundry hamper. From the cupboard I retrieve the broom and dustpan and quickly clean up the fragments of my glass and dump it into the garbage.

The coffee seems to have done its job. I feel jittery and awake. One cup is always enough to last me the entire last day. It's a Saturday meaning I have the day off and, really, I'd rather be working than sit at home all day and do nothing. It's hard to sit behind a desk all day but I tell myself it could be worse. I could be dead. Sometimes I think being dead might be easier. But then I think of all the people I would hurt if I was dead and it grounds me to my life. Katniss is not included in that list. She's not included in anything in my life anymore. She was, but not anymore.

It's not that I'm not happy. I am, I really am, but there are always those days. Those days that you just want to end. But they always seem to drag on don't they? It seems to be one of those days.

In the end I wind up outside on one of the wooden chairs I own and watch the world come to life. In comparison to the backyard the house seems small and insignificant. The backyard is like a miniature forest to me. Filled with trees and bushes that had grown to be familiar these past years. On really bad days I retreat into my woods after work and sit and just relax. No worry about having to hunt to feed my family. In the distance a natural stream trickles and winds its way into the neighbors' yard. I had a fence put up blocking off yard from the rest of the neighbours' for privacy. But the back is open to the real woods. The ones that have been there since the dawn of time.

My mind feels foggy and clouded the exact opposite as to how my body feels. The sun is now shining through the clouds on a cold December morning. Snow freckles the ground in a thin dusty layer.

I can't seem to relax, wound up by the coffee and the uncomforting dream. In the early morning light maybe I can sort things through. Not that's there's a lot to think through in that dream.

In my dream I was in the woods outside of District 12. I was in a hurry, I had no clue why. A small eight year old girl who was the spitting image of Prim kept tugging on my hand and pulling me back, screaming obscenities at me. I kept trying to ditch her, but she'd reappear screaming louder and louder. And as I walked, I noticed Prim kept getting older until she was thirteen.

Finally she stopped shrieking wordlessly at me and said; "It's too late Gale! You're too late!"

"What's too late?"

"You are! You're too late!" She kept repeating that over and over. "She's not there!" She continued to tug on my hand relentlessly until she finally gave up and started throwing a fit, screaming again, about how I was too late and there was nothing to see and all those things that didn't make sense.

I left Prim crying there, venturing forward. Now knowing what I was looking for. I wanted to find our rendezvous spot. When I got to our spot something was wildly different. The rock wasn't there. In its place was a large tree willow tree, with graceful flowing tresses. Its branches, swaying slightly in the light breeze. And tied to the thickest branch of branch of all were six strings of rope all with nooses on the end. And at the end of all those nooses…Hung my mother and father with all my siblings. But that wasn't made the angry cry burst from my lips. Because on the final noose hung Katniss with her gray eyes open, vacant, and staring lifelessly at me.

The sob that escapes my lips makes almost no sense. Why am I crying over her? Because I've shed more than enough of my share of tears for her. So why more? I know for certain, above all else, that the distressed cry that had escaped my lips was not for my broken family, but for her.

"I told you, you were too late." A small voice behind me said. I turned and saw what Prim would look like now, standing behind me with red rimmed eyes and a hopeless look on her face. "I wanted, I wanted to spare you the horror of seeing this…But you were too late to save-" She broke off suddenly and fell on the ground withering in pain. I stepped forward to help her but as soon as my foot touched the ground she ignited in flames. Screaming and crying for help.

I wanted to help her, but I could only watch horror struck as she was burnt alive. I turned away finally, but when I did the faces of my family swirled behind my eyes. Everywhere I looked I couldn't escape them. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was no help.

"Gale?" A new voice asked. I would know that voice anywhere. It was Katniss's. I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the meadow; Katniss was standing in front of me, a soft playful smile on her lips. Her gray eyes were concerned. She was less than a foot away from me and it was hard not to be distracted from that not so little fact.

I looked down and realized our hands were connected. Twined together in a show of something of more than just friendship.

A high laugh made my head swing to the left. Two children both with black hair were running in the waist high grass, laughing freely as they chased the now descending afternoon sun. The afternoon sun glinted off their hair. The girl had a bounty of flowers clutched in her hands. Our children.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Katniss asked, turning her head to watch as the girl tumbled in the grass. The boy paused to laugh at her and help her up.

Before I had to respond, a figure caught my eye. At the very fringe of the meadow. Half hidden in the shadows by the trees stood Prim. Watching us with a look of reproach. Her light blonde hair glinting dully and her light usually carefree blue eyes accusing me.

"What are you looking at?" Katniss asked looking in the direction I was.

"Don't you see her?" I asked.

"See who? Gale…There's no one there." Katniss was staring at me like I was a complete madman. But we already knew that.

So what was she? A figment of my imagination? A ghost? No, she looked too solid to be fake. More likely, she was just something to haunt my dreams. A regular occurrence that happened so often it was almost expected. But the appearances were more and more frequent and always more vivid than the last.

"She's there," I insisted, focusing on Prim's figure finally. Then she shimmered like she was made of some unknown substance, like she was being deleted from my memories. Not such a bad thing perhaps.

Katniss looked over her shoulder one last time, shook her head and kissed me.

And that was when I woke up. I couldn't make heads or tails of the dream. It was showing me what I had feared most in life and what I had wanted most in life.

But either way, Prim being in there was no comfort. She haunted me every time I closed my eyes. Prim who was still so young when she died. Not even thirteen. Prim who found good in everything.

Prim, who in a way, I killed. That was why Katniss could never love me. Because every time she would look at me she would always see the man who helped murder her sister, the one thing she was certain she loved in the world.

I'm sure Prim wouldn't hate me for killing her, but I can never be sure. How could I be sure? Because it's not like I can ask her; "Hey Prim even though I killed you do you hate me?" It would be a stupid question. Of course she would hate me. I would hate the person who killed me that way.

These scars' haunt me, they're invisible but their hold on me is deep. Subconsciously my hand reaches behind my back to trace the angry ragged scars' left behind from my whipping. _ These_ scars' will never fade.

I shake my head to clear my jumbled thoughts. It's clouded over and from the feel of the air it might start snowing soon. I guess that means I'll be stuck inside for most of the day. I hate indoors. I just can't sit still long enough. It tortures me. But I guess I'll manage.

It doesn't mean I can't go outside, I still can. Just not for as long as I would like to.

I watch as the first flakes of snow start to fall. Teeny little flakes. Someone told me, 'if there's big flakes there won't be much snow. Now little flakes, that's a whole different story.'

My breath becomes mist in the air, and I feel the cold creep its way into my already iced over heart. Iced over, but thawing slowly. The frigid cold air, plunges its hand deep into my chest, around my heart and slowly drains the life from me with its cold uncaring clutch.

I shiver violently and decide it's best to go inside before I get frostbite. As it is I'm numb and my limbs are stiff. I sit on the couch for a while with a blanket over me. It's bad idea to go outside on a December morning wearing only boxers.

I go back to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee, something I almost never do, but my mind still feels groggy. As I'm walking back to the living room, a light upstairs catches my eye. I shrug it off, completely normal.

The clock above on the wall where the TV sits reads that's it's a quarter past nine in the morning. I've been up for more five hours already.

The coffee warms my body and slowly, slowly, I begin to allow myself to relax. _No need to be so wound up. _I tell myself. It's not like I'm at work. I can relax here.

Slowly one by one my worries drift away and finally the dream. I feel in good spirits today. When I was younger and still putting food on the table, I hated snow. I've grown to love it now. Because things have changed, obviously. No longer do I have to worry about filling my family's stomachs. I'm not the fourteen year old boy anymore. My innocence was stolen when my father died.

I drain the coffee by half past nine, and then head upstairs to take a shower.

There's a bloody handprint on the door. I didn't do a very good job of cleaning up. I suspect there'll be questions soon.

For the rest of the day, I feel as though I'm being watched by a pair of unseen eyes. The good spirits wearing off, and the usual stress and scowl replace the smile I had been wearing earlier. Nerves maybe or it's my conscience speaking to me about some pressing matter.

I feel absolutely exhausted by nine o' clock already being up for more than twelve hours. With the added stress and Nightmare from last night I don't think sleep will come easy. And I have a bad feeling Katniss will be in my dreams tonight. Preferably not as a _what_ _could've been _dream_. _My mind must think it's giving me what I want, but in reality it's the exact opposite. Because that was almost worse than seeing her dead. Not because I love her, because I don't _want_ to see things like that. I try not to dwell on the past, staying in the present only.

By ten pm I cannot stand it any longer. I get up and tread up the stairs more quietly than necessary.

I crawl underneath the covers and lay there for the longest time, trying to get to sleep. It doesn't come until after midnight. I can't shake the feeling I'm being watched. I'm becoming paranoid. Who would be watching me? Who would want to watch me?

When I finally do fall asleep I don't sleep well. Because even from here, I can feel those piercing blue eyes staring through me into my soul. Watching my every move with those guarded, cautious, reproachful eyes. It's not a comforting thought.

**Oh wow I just did an overload of describing word in that last paragraph. XD. This chapter was the hardest because as much as I love Gale I have issues getting into his mind frame. Let's face it I'm just not 'emo' enough. **

** I'm going to ask for reviews because I want to know if I got this chapter right. If I didn't and I get enough people who say so, I might put a replacement chapter up at the end of this story.**

** This was extremely depressing to write by the way. **

** Song for this Chapter: I Hate Everything about You; Three Days Grace**

** And Also: Mr. Brightside; The Killers**

(I'm a walking mess))


	4. How can you properly apologize for this?

Hey guys. Happy Early Halloween.

I come with some EXTREMELY infuriating bad news. My laptop (which is where all my docs. Are) has deleted the fourth chapter of this story! I was going to send it to my beta today! I looked in my document folder only to find! Well hey isn't that great? It's gone! I've looked everywhere! So it may be a while till the replacement is up.

I am sososososo sorry but this is out of my hands!

Well to make up for it I'll give you a little teaser that I've written up on the spot (note this is raw and unedited!):

It's a fair bit of a walk from my house and an even longer one with the added difficulty of the snow. Small but powerful gusts of winds disrupt the settled snow into frenzy.

When I finally make it to their door I stamp my feet, on the poorly cleared walkway, to rid my boots of the snow. Shake out my hair. Then I stand there waiting for the door to do something. I debate with myself before I finally, finally raise my fist to knock hesitantly on the door.


	5. Visits

**Disclaimer: Do I look like Suzanne Collins to you? No so obviously I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**This isn't nearly as good as the original.**** Sorry this took so long I had more then one computer related issue. My beta-reader read it after I edited it but I didn't do a FINAL edit I was just wanting to get it out so bad. If you've ever lost your work on your computer you know how it feels to redo it. Katniss is ooc in this chapter, sorry.**

I breathe in deeply and try to tell myself that this is what I need to do. Still it's another minute before I steel myself to do it. Funny, I survive two Hunger Games and a rebellion but I can't knock on a door. Not just any door though.

I wonder what they think. Did they see me trample my way through the snow to the house? I would think so because it's kind of hard to miss the full body print I left in a drift four feet from the window.

_Just do it!_ I tell myself. I bring my knuckles up to rap on the door and they've just touched it when the door slides open a few inches so I can just make out a gray eye and a nose.

"Hi. It's um me." I say awkwardly as I shift from foot to foot.

He smiles a bit, but it doesn't't touch his eyes. "Yes it is. It's been a while." Rory opens the door wide enough for me to squeeze through. He looks older. Is he older than me? I try to think back and count the years. How old he was when I was reaped. He must be younger than me, but he looks older. More like Gale. The resemblance makes it hard for me to think clearly, my throat closes up.

"Is your mom home?" My voice is, as expected, hoarse.

"Yeah." He answers, and the door opens just wide enough for me to squeeze through.

Inside it's easier to get a better look at Rory. He towers over me, well over six feet.

We stand there for a moment silently seizing each other up, me to make up for the years I lost, and well I'm not sure about him. Maybe I'm just imagining it but there seems to be something sinister in his gaze, but I'm sure I'm just seeing things.

Finally he calls for his mom. "Mom you have a visitor!" He shoots me one last look before retreating into the living room.

Which leaves me feeling very awkward and out of place. I've never been in this house and I don't know where everything is. I'm not sure what to do with myself, so I stand in the foyer rocking back and forth on my heels, taking in the homey feel of the house. Our own house was so inexplicably sterile you could eat off the floor but it didn't feel warm like Hazelle's always has.

New pictures are hung on the walls, a few very recent, from the looks of it at least, family photos. All their old ones, are just ashes.

It's only a few seconds later when Hazelle bounds down the stairs, confused at first but then her face breaks into surprise ands elation. I wasn't aware she missed me that much. It only makes me feel guiltier about all the years I stayed away.

"Katniss!"

I don't even have a chance to respond before she pulls me into a bone crushing hug, almost cutting off my airways.

"H-i," I choke out.

She lets me go, finally, and I take in a deep breath of air trying to re-inflate my lungs.

"Come in, come in!" Hazelle ushers me into the kitchen and directs me to a seat.

I take it gratefully. The chair is strong and sturdy and, even for being home crafted, quite comfortable.

Hazelle is busy in the kitchen, making tea in a gleaming white tea pot. "So how are you Katniss?" She asks taking a seat across from me. In a motherly way she places her hand atop of mine and looks me straight in the eyes.

Hazelle looks relatively unchanged in the past five years. The only difference I can see is her hair has thicker streaks of gray then it did before. In fact, I think she looks younger almost, except for the eyes, they have always worn a beaten down look.

It takes me a moment to remember that she asked a question which more often then not involves an answer from the other person. I ponder it for another minute. Well the nightmares aren't any better and they're not worse. Prim is dead. I'm getting married, still unable to wrap my head around that fact. My tailbone is sore. I get nasty headaches from the concussion I received. And there are times when I forget really trivial things, example was last week I couldn't remember why had I would come downstairs at night. So, obviously, _great_ does not cover it. I would say not good but Hazelle would be all over me. "Better," I say which can swing both ways. It sums it up pretty well, it says 'I'm neither great and I'm neither terrible.'

Hazelle raises an eyebrow at me as if unconvinced. The kettle comes to my rescue and whistles. Hazelle jumps up and grabs two cups from a cupboard door, then takes out a plate of ginger snap cookies.

Honestly, I'm still amazed at the amount of food people have now. For instance this plate of cookies would have almost never happened to a Seam family like the Hawthornes.

Hazelle hands me a cup filled with tea then adds the sugar and milk on the table next to cookies.

I ignore the cookies but help myself to the sugar and milk.

For a while Hazelle and I get by talking about inconsequential details of our lives, like what we've done for the past few days, how the kids are doing in school, why Peeta answered the door instead of me that night -Hazelle hasn't shown up on my doorstep for four years she used to but I usually never returned the gesture and she just gave up. That sort of meaningless drabble I was never skilled in.

My fingers are clasped tight around my cup, I'm afraid that I'm shaking for some reason.

"I'm surprised you came today." Hazelle admits. "We saw you come in and we were thinking you weren't going to knock. We figured you were just going to leave." She shrugs.

I crack a smile. "I was seriously debating about it."

We sit in silence for a few moments, unable to think of a comfortable topic to talk about.

Hazelle catches sight of my ring and gasps softly to herself. The look on her face is somewhere between elation and shock. "Well this comes as no surprise." She mutters. "Can I have a look?"

I nod and slide the ring off my freezing fingers, reminding myself that I should've brought gloves. In the weak winter afternoon light the ring shines dimly as I hand it to her.

She twists it this way and that as she examines it like a jeweller. I notice she still has her own wedding band on. I never noticed it before now. Hazelle is plenty attractive enough that she could've gotten another husband, but I guess she never fully got over the first one.

Posy ambles in, muttering to herself about the unjustness of math, and helps herself to a glass of milk. She drains it in one gulp leaving a milky moustache on her upper lip. "Hi," She says awkwardly looking down. Is it possible she's actually forgotten my name? Maybe… after all she was only a toddler the last time I saw her.

"Hi," I say back, my voice sounding oddly stiff and formal for talking to someone as young as her.

With her newly full glass of milk in her hand Posy walks over to me and gives me a warm one armed hug. "Nice to see you." She pulls up a chair right next to me and helps herself to a cookie.

Hazelle hands me back my ring and I slid it back onto my finger. It feels…Right to have it there again.

"So when are you getting married?"

Um… To be honest…Um…. Oh no…"Um… Spring sometime?" It comes out as a question. "Well I don't know really." It's true. Peeta hasn't brought it up and I'm sure as hell not broaching that particular subject. It gets me wound up enough just thinking about let alone talking about it. My heart seems to twist at strange angles even now as I sit here. "It just depends when it works out best."

"Can we come?" Posy asks instantly.

It takes me so off guard that I automatically answer. Little girls, weddings, every girls dream. "Of course, but don't expect much. We're just signing papers."

Posy gives me a look that says; 'well duh.' "I've never been to a wedding."

Hazelle shakes her head smiling. "Don't you remember the Odair wedding? Or were you too young?"

Posy grins innocently. "You mean the District 4 victors' with the bronze hair and green eyes and the… er… mad girl? I can vaguely remember it but that I've never seen a home wedding. You know from District 12."

Hazelle gives up at this point in time with a loud sigh, and a "Alright you win."

Posy gives me a triumphantly smug look and pumps both her fists into the air yelling: "I WIN!" She finishes off the cookie she's been working on then wipes the crumbs on her jeans and walks out of the kitchen still screaming delightedly; "I WIN! I WIN!" She sounds so ludicrously delighted it should almost be illegal. Hazelle must be right a lot.

"Do your homework!" Hazelle calls after her, rolling her eyes.

"Wait don't they have school?" I ask, typically they should be at school because it's not even noon yet.

"Snow day." She explains.

I haven't been near the new school. It's built right on top of the old one. I usually avoid it if I'm heading that way. Much of the town is built on top of the old one. At times when you're walking through the square it's easy to forget about the rebellion and the hunger. It's not that the square is a replica of the old one but it's still easy to forget. At least for me.

As I take in the kitchen I notice, for the first time, how big this house really is. It looks so small from the front. Obviously it's not the two bedrooms and one bathroom house they lived in. Gale would've preferred the old house in comparison to this one. Sure the old one was small and cramped and he slept on the couch because they couldn't fit another bed into the second bedroom but his whole life was there. Maybe that's why I feel so comfortable in this house. Knowing that Gale's presence has never touched it makes it easier for me to relax and enjoy myself.

"I thought you would've brought Peeta with you." Hazelle says, efficiently snapping my from my revive.

I shrug, "Would've but he was going to do some errands then go home and paint. I didn't want to interfere. I didn't tell him I was stopping by."

"You'll tell him I say hi right?" Hazelle asks eagerly.

I nod my consent. With Hazelle you never have to supply much to the conversation. Just say yes and okay regularly and she'll keep talking. It's a good thing when you're easily tongue tied like myself.

What I don't tell Hazelle is that I hate to act as a mailman delivering messages to friends. It's a small price to pay for forgiveness I would imagine. Although I don't think they blame me for neglecting them. Well maybe one in the family, who shall remain nameless. But that's just me making assumptions.

"So how big is this house?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Bigger then our last one." Hazelle grins. "Well I don't remember the square footage at the moment but it's five bedrooms and three bath. Built from the ground up."

It takes me a moment to do the math, and then I do it again. That's one more bedroom then necessary. It could be for guests but really how often do they get guests at the house? No the extra room must be for something else. Someone else.

"The extra room is, of course, for Gale when he comes by." Hazelle says in a unconcerned manner. Like she didn't just drop a detonator on me. Gale has come here, to District 12. The idea that he didn't stop by to see me infuriates me, which I guess is a little hypocritical, because if the situation was in reverse I wouldn't have visited him. But still knowing he was just a walk across town…He must've just hid indoors within that time. There would've been too many questions asked and eventually it would've reached us, meaning Peeta and I, so the visit must've been short and discreet.

"Oh…" I manage, choking on my tea. "That's…great…"

Hazelle smiles in that motherly way then her face falls into one of concern when I'm still choking. She jumps up from her chair, probably prepared top give me the Heimlich. I put up a hand to stop her. I cough a few more times and the choking eventually stops. I reach for the towel by the stove and mop up the tea that sprayed from my mouth and nose. I think I must've hit Hazelle as well as she wipes a hand, trying to be subtle about it, across her face. My face burns.

I splutter a few more times then make a few attempts to speak for lapsing into silence. All those words I had arranged so carefully in my head before have now become a jumbled mess.

Thankfully Posy comes in again, muttering about math. "Mom do you get this equation?" She hands Hazelle a leaf of paper and crosses her arms looking very frustrated.

"Here I can help." I'm something of a whiz at math. Of course I never finished school but how hard can Posy's homework be? I take the pencil from her hand and scribble in the correct answer. I can see she's been struggling with this one for a while, there are eraser marks everywhere! It was quite simple actually she just forgot that five multiplied by five was 25 not 20.

"Thanks Catnip." Posy says beaming from ear to ear.

Hearing my old nickname Gale gave me makes me smile back at her. I'm not sure where she got it from, maybe he used the term when I wasn't around knowing how I used to pretend to loathe it.

"We all good now?" I ask the smile still plastered on my face.

"Yeah," Posy says, grabbing another cookie and promptly taking a bit out of it. "Thanks again Catnip."

I smile again at her back as she walks away her pigtails bouncing.

She pokes her head back in the door and says "Oh and tell Peeta these cookies are ah-maze-ing."

I raise my eyebrows at the plate of cookies, smirking a little. That explains a lot. Of course Peeta would see them more often then I would, after all I was the one who neglected them, not him. So why would I think just because I didn't see them that Peeta didn't? Actually now that I think of it, I think I remember Peeta bringing it up one day but I must've been really out of it to not remember the conversation at all.

I pick up the cookie like it's a rigged and I might die if I touch it wrong. I sniff it appraisingly then I take a bit so small it can barely be called that. Yes it's definitely Peeta's cooking, I've been eating his food for over five years it's easy to tell.

"So how long has Peeta been living with you?" Hazelle asks trying to keep herself from grinning as I inspect the cookie further.

"Three years."

"That's nice. It's no surprise obviously."

I get that a lot. Someone asks me about my life and they always say it's no surprise. Why am I the only one who gets surprised by the outcome of things that happen in my life? Is it because I have such a thick skull? Everyone else seemed to know exactly who I was going to end up with before I knew it myself. Honestly are my emotions that obvious to everyone but myself? "Thanks," I say somewhat sarcastically. I didn't mean for it to come out that way.

Hazelle takes it all in stride knowing I didn't actually mean it. "Any plans for the next few months?"

Well I might as well get it over with and tell her the real reason I came her. "Well actually I'm going to see Gale over the summer." I drop my eyes to the tea, blushing.

"I knew that, that's why I asked. I got a letter last week saying that. It's why I brought it up."

"Oh."

"Is Peeta going with you?"

"Of course not he needs to be with me in case Gale and I get on each others nerves and try to kill each other."

Hazelle as if in agreement. " Good idea after all I doubt he'll behave…" She stops suddenly then quickly resumes. How long are you going for?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't got a letter back yet. No more then a week I would expect." I don't want to spend too much time with Gale.

Hazelle smiles coyly and I get the feeling she knows much more then I do. It makes me feel filled with giddiness and dread.

"What?" I ask leaning forward trying to stare her down. It's unsuccessful. Hazelle is better at staring people down then I am.

"Oh nothing." Hazelle says in that way that means the exact opposite of _nothing_. I would ask her but that would only be giving in.

Hazelle sighs and that's the only sound for the next forty minutes. We just sit there staring at each other, occasionally taking a sip of tea and eating a cookie.

Rory comes back in for a glass of water, his eyes boring into the back of my head. I can't tell if he's glaring or not. I don't want to turn around. I want Hazelle to notice how hostile he is.

She does. She clears her throat. "Rory do you need something?"

"No," He says sounding sullen. "Just getting a glass of water. Hello Katniss."

I turn to look at his face, how the hair keeps falling in his eyes no matter what. "Hi." It feels weird to say it again to him but I do it anyway.

"We're talking do you mind clearing out." Hazelle doesn't make it a question, it's implied but he really has no choice other then to leave us alone.

"Can I get my water first?" He asks, without waiting for her to answer, as it would probably be no anyway, he goes to the fridge takes out a jug of water and pours it into a clear glass. He walks out of the room and I can hear his feet on the stairs.

"So how has Gale been?" I ask, the chair squeaking on the wooden floor as I get up. I place my empty mug on the counter as the sink is already filled to the brim with dirty dishes.

"Well since you last saw him. The first time he came over I was worried about him. Extremely depressed, basically locked himself in his room. He was talking about well, um…" It's obvious Hazelle doesn't want to say the word and I don't want to either. It's just a word really. I tried to do it myself after I shot Coin but I can't actually make myself say it.

"It scared Posy to no end seeing him like that. We fought and he finally agreed to seek help."

I'm not sure I want to hear more. I don't want to hear how depressed Gale was, it doesn't make me feel any better.

"Sec-"

"How many times has he been here?" I ask incredulously.

"Lost count." She replies breezily and continues with her stories. "Second time he was much better. He looked healthy again and I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that he found some friends at work."

When she's done her spew on Gale I gratefully move on to something else. Something a little less…painful. I guess that would be the right word. Although not quite. Peeta was the one good with words and I usually just sat there and let him do the talking.

"So how long have you been living here?"

Hazelle thinks for a moment. "We left Thirteen shortly after the rebellion. We had to build the house from the ground up. It took a while no doubt but now we have enough space for everything we need. It's actually a little too big because we lost so much."

"Did anyone help you?" I ask picturing in my head the Hawthornes camped outside with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Surely some people helped them right? I mean they were practically dirt poor when they left District 12 and I don't think it improved much when they went to District 13. I feel a sharp pang of guilt that I myself hadn't offered an olive branch, so to speak.

"Oh yes loads. A lot of people leant us a helping hand. Even Gale. I think hammering nails got a lot of anger out of him."

"I should've helped." I say miserably hanging my head. I was so wrapped up in my own worries and needs that I completely blocked out everyone else.

Her eyes widen like I've just said something completely out of line and shouldn't be considered at all. "Oh no, no, no Katniss. You had enough on your plate. Don't worry about something that's already passed. I mean we are here aren't we?"

"I guess so but you were just across town. You could've stayed at my house until yours was complete." I feel useless. To stop myself from the pointless wallowing, like Hazelle so kindly pointed out, I change the subject again. We can't stay on more then one for long it seems.

"So Hazelle what are you doing now and days?"

"Well nothing really," She replies smoothing back a piece of frizzy gray hair. "Gale insisted I lay low and enjoy retirement. I'm 52 I don't want to retire. I took his advice anyway. He sends us part of his pay check every month. Still I can't stand doing nothing all day so I'm cleaning people's houses."

Hazelle happens to be one of the cleanliest people I know. She tries so hard to keep her house spotless but with three kids I understand it's next to impossible to keep the house to her standard of clean.

"How wonderful. I'm glad you're all doing so well. I'm sorry it's been so long." I look Hazelle straight in the eyes while a tiny apologetic smile plays across my lips. I know Hazelle won't judge me for my long absence from their lives and neither will she hold it against me. Perhaps she -aside from Peeta- understands better then anyone what exactly I've been through.

One look outside the window and I know I've been here longer then I meant to be. I jump up from my seat. "I should be getting home. I didn't tell Peeta I was coming. He'll be wondering where I am."

Hazelle nods and stands up. "Will we see you soon?" She asks softly. She strides forward to meet me and gives me a warm motherly hug. She smells like Christmas; shortbread cookies and pine trees. This is the first physical interaction that isn't friendly or romantic, it's motherly and it feels good like it's filling the void when my mother left. In some ways Hazelle was more of a mom then my real one. Pretty sad. I don't want to let go. As we stand there, somewhat awkwardly, we rock side to side making up for all those years that we never spoke.

I let go of her finally. "Definitely." I tell her confidently. I slide my arms into my winter jacket, and wrap my scarf around my neck. Outside it seems colder and the snow is falling harder then ever. At least the wind has stopped blowing sideways. I don't want to leave.

As soon as I step outside I'm assaulted with the cold frigid air. This is the time to snuggle up beside the fireplace with a cup of something warm and a blanket. Which is exactly what I plan to do when I get the chance.

I wave goodbye to Hazelle and Vic who are standing in the living room window, watching me.

I'm outside the door of my house now, and it doesn't seem like it was quick enough. My nose feels like it's about to fall off!

The minute I'm inside I fling off my jacket and it lands on the couch. I wander my way to the kitchen and see Peeta has already turned on the kettle.

Seeing Hazelle was nice but it's a relief to be home. It's hard to remember now, why I ever neglected them in the first place.


	6. A Matter of Time

**Disclaimer: Sure I have a lot of perfume from 1920 that I never wear and a lot of nail polish but I'm not Suzanne Collins and therefore I DO NOT own the fabulous Hunger Games. And while on the topic of everything I do not own, I also don't own the songs named at the end. Katniss is probably ooc in this, we vary on our thoughts of weddings.**

_I'm running through the darks woods as fast as my legs will carry me, but it's not fast enough. My dress keeps snagging on the bracken and I trip over roots that appear at the last second. A loud and ominous cracking sound on my left sends me scattering to my right where I trip over a root and land face first in the mud. I have to keep running. Yet as soon as I'm on my feet I realize trying to outrun and evade them will be a waste of energy. My ankle refuses to bear any of my weight. I collapse on the ground._

_A viscous howling erupts from twenty_ feet behind me. Frantically_, with my heart in my throat, I look behind me to see the first mutt break through the tree line. Wavy shaggy blonde hair with piercing blue eyes. Dried blood hangs from it's muzzle as it surveys me, analyzing where my weakest point is. The mutts eyes hone in on my neck with a hungry look in it's eyes. Just as I'm turning around to face it while I crawl slowly away, my eyes, keeping contact with his. He lunges straight for my neck-_

I bolt upright in my bed, gasping as my lungs struggle for the air my body needs. A clammy sweat has broken over my body. I stuff my fist in my mouth before the scream works its way out my mouth. I can't wake Peeta who looks exactly as he did when he was seventeen. My breathing rate is reaching hysterical and I force myself to take calm, deep, breaths. I curl inwardly on myself as I peer around my room in the predawn gloom. There's no scary monsters to jump out at me. Which is a relief. The dream wasn't that bad really, at least I woke up before I got to the part where the mutt killed me.

I've been dreading this day for weeks. And now it's finally here.

I lay in my bed for a minute trying to calm my racing heart. Sleep at this point is impossible. My brain is still reeling from the dream.

Trying to be as quiet as possible I rise from the bed and cross to the window. I peer outside to a what will be a bright sunny spring day. A perfect day for a wedding.

Seeing as sleep will be impossible I may as well make use of this day. I dress in stiff robotic motions, barely aware of what I'm putting on, ignoring the pretty outfit I laid out a few days ago for myself.

I wander into the kitchen and slowly make myself breakfast. The sun won't rise for another couple of hours as it's three am.

I barely touch my breakfast none of it seems appetizing anymore. Too bland. When I'm done picking at it I stuff it back in the fridge for later use.

Within four minutes I know I can't stay in the house any longer. It feels like the walls are closing in on me and I'm becoming claustrophobic. The air seems stale, not as fresh as it did a minute ago.

I run to the closet where all our jackets are kept, practically running into it headlong.

I grab the first one I can get my hands on, then slide it on in record time. Then I'm out the door.

My feet carry me this way and that unsure of where I want to go. I just walk around town in a haze. Then without me quite remembering how I got there, I'm in the meadow. The grass is thick and lush like it used to be though no one planted any seeds.

Within seconds, barely realizing what I've done, I'm suddenly in the woods. The woods with the thick branches pressing against each other to form a thick green canopy over my head like a blanket of protection.

I begin to relax as I walk farther and farther into the trees. My breaths steady to an even pace. I could go like this for miles. The sun has just peaked in the horizon judging by the shades of green the leaves of the trees are turning.

Maybe a weapon of some kind would've been a smart idea but I can't imagine much harm will come to me. Besides, I don't plan on going far.

Birds are chirping their early morning songs, a creek rushes by in the distance and a rabbit runs across my path. This is where I feel the most welcome.

My strides lengthen but my feet maintain their velvet tread. Being out here it feels like every Sunday morning I spent with Gale foraging for food. Eventually I find what I've been looking for without me knowing it. Our rendezvous spot that overlooks the valley. Where, under a decade ago, Gale and I sat talking about running away together. That was before I was sent into the games. I wonder if it would be different if I didn't opt to go in for Prim. Would she still be alive? Would Snow still be in power? Would I be married to Gale instead of Peeta? It seems pointless to wonder.

I settle into the nook of the rock that was always considered to be _my _spot. I don't quite fit properly without Gale there squished up against me. The rock feels cold and hard to the touch.

I sat there for a long time just breathing in and out slowly, not thinking about anything, keeping my mind blissfully blank.

My eyes start to close, perhaps finally giving in to the drowsiness of my body which is screaming fatigue. I haven't slept right in about a week and I'm sure my body shows it.

A yawn escapes my lips but it's such a regular occurrence nowadays that Peeta pays no mind to it.

_Relax_ I remind myself. _No reason to stress. Nope none at all._ Of course I have every reason to stress today. Most people would be giddy with excitement but I have to admit I'm dreading today.

It should be raining buckets with thunder and lightning to reflect my mood but instead it's blissfully calm and everything seems unusually bright and happy. The weather must be reflecting Peeta's mood today.

At first I though I was shivering; the slight shakes coursing through my body just a side effect from the cool edge to the morning air. But it's occurred to me that I'm _shaking_ with nerves.

I tell myself firmly to calm down but it seems pointless so I don't hold back what's sure to come. Freaking out? Sure let it come. Tears? Sure why not. Today…Today I'm getting married. I will no longer be Miss. Everdeen. No later today I will finally become Mrs. Mellark. That is why I am freaking out to the point of it being comical.

The problem is I don't let people in. Ever. I've learned to build walls so I can't be hurt emotionally. I don't love easily and marriage, this was about as serious as it got. After this there would be no going back.

I love Peeta, I've finally come to that realization so most people would be fine with marrying the one they love but with me it all seems so much more complicated then it should be. My heart feels twisted up to the point where I don't recognize it.

I can't think anymore. I cannot stand it anymore. I can't stand the stress, the stress of seeing Gale, the stress of getting married or the stress of tonight. I hadn't even thought of that.

It's all too confusing trying to figure out love. It makes you so insecure.

I fall forward my face buried in my hands, expecting tears to squeeze their way out of my eyes. None come, thankfully. Who would want to marry this? This mangled mess of a person? A girl with so many flaws that they outweigh the benefits? Who would want this girl who experienced too much at such a young age. A girl who lost all of her family and her best friend. _Peeta wants you_ a small voice in the back of my head reminds me quietly.

That's right. Peeta loves me for all my flaws and for being the mangled mess of a person I am. I should know he tells me all the time. And I love him for all his flaws too. Love is crazy. Or maybe it's just because I'm slightly unstable. Probably the latter.

Being out here, it's really no so bad. It's hard to imagine why I never brought Peeta here, it's so much easier to relax here, easier to breathe. I feel almost drunk with the relief of being able to breathe properly. Why didn't I bring Peeta here? Oh right. Because these woods belong to Gale and I and only us. No one else with the exception of my father.

What was the line of thought I was following? I can't seem to remember. Oh well it doesn't matter.

I start walking again and it seems the farther I walk away from District 12 the more I forget my worries about marriage and commitment and other nonessentials some idiot invented just to complicate things.

My feet tread a trail completely unfamiliar to me, in fact it's barely a trail for people at all. I'm just following a game trail, hunters' instinct I suppose. It's so branded into my brain.

One step. What was I worrying over? Two step, the evergreens seem brighter then usual.

With my spirits lifted and renewed I find myself whistling a cheery little tune my father taught me when I was younger. Something about a teapot. It's one of those mindless children's' rhymes that have no meaning or moral whatsoever. Eventually I just start singing. There's nothing else to do but walk and unfortunately that just something that occupies your body motions not your mind.

A Mockingjay in a nearby pine branch replicates my voice and sings it back to me.

Everything goes on as it should. The sun continues to rise, the forest continues to come alive and the world keeps on spinning.

I try to imagine what Peeta's doing back home. He's probably already up by now and just eating breakfast. He woke up alone which may be a first in a long while. Usually I'm awake first but I just lay in bed until he gets up.

I stop walking abruptly. I forgot to leave him a note, damn! He's probably wondering where I am! How stupid and selfish am I? Peeta's such a worrier he's probably looking for me. I mean how would I feel if I woke up alone on my wedding day then looked around the entire house and still couldn't find them? I'd feel ditched and would assume they ran off.

"Congrats Katniss, you idiot." I chastised myself. Usually at this point someone would turn around and go back the way they came to get ready and put their fiancée's heart to rest that they did not run off, but I happen to be setting a very good pace and I'm in no mood to turn around.

I continue to walk for the next few hours, completely unaware of the passing time. The sun is barely visible through the leaves of the trees.

In fact I'm so absorbed in my own thoughts that when I finally come to a break in the trees I realize that I should start heading back if I want to get back in time. I spin around and get slapped in the face with a branch.

I rub my cheekbone gingerly as I walk at a brisk pace back the way I came. I need to hurry if I'm going to make it back with time to spare.

Weaving my way in and around trunks of trees and branches I start to realize exactly how far I walked this morning. And none of it looks the least bit familiar to me. As much as I hate to admit it after thirty minutes of directionless walking I think I'm actually lost. I don't remember any of this. It's like the forest is changing every time I glance back at it. Was that rock there four seconds ago?

The first traces of panic are knotting itself into my system. It's getting harder and harder to breathe and think straight. I was just starting to breathe properly again too. I remind myself that if I just follow the path I left I'll find my way back. Problem is I don't remember the game trail being that faint. Maybe I just imagined it all this time.

Wouldn't that be just great?

I continue forward as I have no other choice. The colours of the scenery around me seems to blend into one giant blob of green and brown with no discernable shapes. My legs are shaking and I keep tripping over my feet.

I'm a walking mess. Full of nerves. My thoughts are jumbled and I can't find a solid reason to go back. It would be so easy to walk away right now and never come back. It sounds heartless but I could do it if I wanted to. But that's not how I was raised. My mother raised me to follow through on my commitments. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to follow through with my commitment to marry Peeta because that's what you do when you love someone. That doesn't mean I might throw up a couple of times due to the churning, sinking feeling in my stomach but that's just a minor setback.

Of course that leaves a bigger problem. Our wedding night. We never actually talked about it, but it's implied when you get married isn't it? Just thinking about it makes me stop in my tracks and start hyperventilating. I don't think I'm exactly ready for that yet.

When I get back to our rendezvous spot, I stop in relief. I was really starting to question my sense of direction. Allowing myself to stop for a moment I take a seat beside the rock and overlook the valley.

A warm breeze starts up, scattering the loose tendrils of my hair across my face like a fan. The suns rays reaches me through the heavy foliage, warming my body. I close my eyes and the rays of the sun turn the back of my eyelids a faint red. My restless night is creeping up on me. I just want to sit. My limbs feel like lead. Getting up seems impossible.

But Peeta is probably worrying himself sick over me. The idea sends me scrambling to my feet. As long as I don't think of the ceremony awaiting me back home I'm fine. _I can make it through this, _I tell myself.

Wiping off the needles accumulated on my jeans, I hurtle my way through the bushes.

Within the half hour I'm back in the meadow. Now I can properly judge the time and it's not reassuring. I'm late. More then an hour behind schedule.

This sends me into a frenzy and I'm sprinting toward my house. Within minutes I'm outside the door and I fumble for my key until I remember I never took it with me. Planning to be back long before Peeta left. I drop to my knees and frantically start looking for the spare key we keep.

It's right where we leave it. Underneath the worn welcome mat by the front door. The key which was once silver is grimy and a faded bronze colour with rust around the edges. This key is never used and just collects dirt. Still I'm thankful it's here. If it wasn't I'd have to resort to breaking into my own house.

My hands are clammy and can barely hold the key. By some miracle the key actually gets into the hole and I'm able to unlock the door.

The door swings open and the place looks deserted. All the lights are off and I can't hear a sound. Still I call out Peeta's name my voice magnified by the empty house. "Peeta?" I hiss taking an unnecessarily cautious steps into the house.

When there is no answer I bound up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The sounds of my footsteps seem louder than usual, maybe it's the fact that I'm all alone in this house. And I feel more alone then I ever have before.

I burst into our bedroom, almost taking the door off in my haste. There on the little chair by the closet is my outfit I so painstakingly laid out. A simple white blouse that flows around me and light jeans. The best thing about weddings in District 12. You can wear whatever you choose. Often the girl rents a dress that's been worn by countless of others and the men just wear something clean. Peeta and I had decided that he would wear something black and I would wear something white.

Seeing as President Snow isn't in charge I don't have to get married publicly in the Capitol wearing an outrageous dress. My prep team doesn't even know that I'm getting married. No, I actually get a nice little wedding that I somewhat planned with my closest friends and family. It started out as just Peeta and I but seeing as I had promised Posy she could come the guest list got a little longer.

I quickly change my clothes and look at myself in the mirror. The braid I had slept in, is wild and a bit of an eyesore if I'm going to get married. I grab the hairbrush and shake out my hair, thinking of just putting it back into the braid but I decide against it at the last moment.

Taking one last look around the room to make sure I haven't forgotten anything and when I realize there is nothing left to do I make my way down the stairs making more noise then I consider necessary. I may as well be an elephant for the amount of noise I'm creating. If Haymitch was sleeping next door he's not now.

I lock the door behind me, turn around and stop dead. Haymitch is outside and looking up at the sun like it just ruined his day. It might've if he has a hangover. Which he always does.

I square my shoulders, reminding myself that he does in fact live beside me so running into him every now and again is unavoidable. But I had been doing so well in avoiding him.

"Hello Katniss." He says mildly, as if we did this every day.

"Haymitch."

"What's with the fancy clothes?"

"Nothing." One word answers are my goal.

He sighs looking defeated. "Nothing huh? You're not getting married are you?"

I bit my lip. "None of your business Haymitch." My voice isn't as sharp as I thought it would be.

"'Pose not." He mutters.

We stand there neither of us looking at each other. Both of us looking awkard. Suddenly I remember that I'm in a hurry. "Look, I have to go. I'm late as it is."

"So you _are_ getting married!" Haymitch exclaims. I'm so confused. Why is he trying to talk to me? Why is he even bothering? I'm not sure how to take this unexpected turn of events. "Tell Peeta I say; 'good for him'. I haven't talked to him in a few days."

My eyebrows which were already raised disappear from sight by my bangs. Peeta has been socializing with Haymitch? Interesting. I never knew that. "Oh really?" I ask, perplexed and glaring at him like it's his fault. "I'-I'll tell him."

He nods looking surly, as always. He turns around to go back inside then looks round again and says; "I'm happy for you Katniss. I hope it all works out. You deserve it."

"How drunk are you?" I ask, trying not to smile for an unapparent reason.

"Totally wasted." He replies and disappears.

Who would've guessed that I would get married? Apparently everyone but myself.

I start running again, confused by the turn of events. Maybe I should feel betrayed learning that Peeta socializes with Haymitch behind my back without telling me. But somehow it just seems to make things even between us.

The Justice Building rolls into view. My breath is coming in ragged gasps. I was built for short distance runs only. Not running across the entire town like I just did. I have to admit I'm a little proud of myself, but I'm definitely winded.

I collapse on the top steps unable to walk another step. The big wooden doors open just a fraction of an inch and Hazelle walks out shaking her head looking downcast. "Kids I said lets go."

"Mom just give her five more minutes!" I hear Posy say defiantly from inside. I have to say; the girls got guts for standing up to her mom like that.

Hazelle gives an angry sigh and starts down the steps. She looks down, catches sight of me and stops dead. She spins around. "She's here!" She bends down and grabs onto my arm to hoist me up.

As soon as I'm on my feet we realize it's pretty much impossible. I'm shaking like a leaf caught in a violent monsoon. I drop to my knees and curl into a ball rocking back and forth while I start to freak out again. I usually hid my emotions and keep myself guarded but today everything I'm feeling is on the table for everyone to see.

"Katniss calm down." Hazelle says quietly. Sitting beside me she drapes an arm across my shoulder and gives me what's supposed to be a reassuring squeeze.

"Easy for you to say." I hiccup. "How were you when you got married?"

Hazelle doesn't answer and that's good enough for me.

"It's too…I don't know!" I throw my arms up in frustration, shaking Hazelle's own arms off me. I'm through trying to decipher my feelings.

It feels like it's an eternity before Hazelle speaks again. Her head cocked to the left slightly and looking almost perplexed as if trying to solve a difficult equation in her head. "Should I leave you alone?" She asks.

I nod furiously, just wanting two minutes where I can sort myself out without anyone judging me.

Silently, without a word, Hazelle gets up and leaves. Inside I'm sure she's explaining the situation and standing beside her kids once more.

I sit there, staring at nothing in particular my eyes glazed over. I wipe at my dry eyes with the back of my hand and think solemnly; _Prim should be here_.

Prim loved weddings, more then anyone I know of. Maybe it was because she was so desperate to find some relationship that was not tarnished by the brutality of the Capitol. Seeing as how both our family and Hazelle's lost father figures at the Capitols hands.

_Pull yourself together_. I command myself. I allow myself one last shaky breath that could pass for a hysterical sob and get up. I wipe my face clean of all emotions and arrange it into a careful mask of happiness. I'm thankful I've had so long to work on these kinds of things; arrange my face into something other then what I'm feeling. With not knowing how I actually feel it's a little more difficult but I manage.

Four steps to get to the door, that's all it takes. Two seconds to wedge the door open and slide in.

The first thing my eyes focus on is Peeta, sitting in one of the few chairs looking more worried than agitated. At the sound of my arrival he jerks his head up and relief floods his face as he stares at me with the faintest of smiles on his face. It seems a little forced.

Something in my chest restricts painfully, making it difficult to breathe properly for a moment. The mask is wiped away leaving my face in an expression somewhere between confusion and happiness. The very thought that he would actually wait for me for almost two hours makes my chest swell with an emotion I can't quite put my finger on. I would have given up an hour ago and gone back home to wait it out, where I could have hidden from the embarrassment of being stood up. And yet here he stands, waiting for me, never once doubting that I would show up at some point.

Peeta stands, momentarily losing his balance with his leg, but once he's steady he jogs over to me, crossing the long narrow building with only a few steps. He stands beside me and offers his hand.

I weave my arm through his, feeling a sudden surge of light-headedness. I look at him a little dazed as we walk back to the official slowly. A smile that doesn't feel forced for once today, breaks out on my face. I'm actually going to do this, I actually am. Sure I'm scared out of my mind but what's the worst that could happen?

Noticing my stare Peeta looks at me and another smile lights up his face. His blue eyes lock on mine and it's hard to imagine why I was so nervous before. I feel like nothing could bring me down. A giddy high school girl with the man of her dreams standing beside her. That's how I feel, like I'm seventeen again, without having to worry about the Capitol, leading a normal worry free life.

I can tell there are a few questions that he wants to ask but won't. Neither of us want anything to ruin this moment. Nothing could ruin this moment. Not even Gale.

I force him from my mind. He's happy in District 2 I remind myself but the little nagging voice keeps saying, _but what if he's not and what if you're making a huge mistake?_

My smile falters, wavers, but when I glance over to Hazelle's family and see the smiles there, genuine happiness, the smile replaces itself. Even Rory doesn't look murderous for once.

We approach the official, a thin, frail elderly man with heavy lidded eyes and a droopy smile.

He slides the papers towards us and hands us each a pen. "Sign here, here, initial here and sign here then you're married."

I take a look at the paper it's pretty basic. Exactly how I remember my dad telling me.

I look behind me, hoping for one foolish second, that I would see my mother and father smiling at me, looking exactly the same as how I remembered them at the age of eleven. All I see is Hazelle and her kids. Posy in a girlish pink dress with feminine ruffles. It reminds me of one of the dresses I wore on the Victory tour. That feels like ages and ages ago. Another lifetime.

Someone is missing. Someone living. Oh right my mother! I completely forgot about my mother! No matter our differences and how we never got along it seems wrong to not include her in this. She's missing out on one of the most important days of my life. She'd be happy for me. Maybe if she was here we would finally be able to forgive each other for our flaws. I can almost hear her voice now.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks gently. His voice snaps me back to reality. I blink and turn my attention to the paper. He's already done and now it's all up to me. Taking a deep, calming breath, I put my pen to the paper and scrawl in my name in the assigned places, my hand surprisingly steady. _Katniss Everdeen _and _Peeta Mellark_ fill the blank spots on the page. When I'm finished I drop the pen and look at the official.

We both wait for it. The one line that will finalize it all.

The man takes an agonizingly long look at it, like inspecting it for some sign of forgery or treason then clears his voice. In a deep voice he announces. "You are officially married. You may kiss the bride."

Neither of us object. We're both acutely aware of Hazelle and the kids, watching us. A burst of applause sounds from what sounds like tiny hands.

Colour floods my cheeks and I break away looking at the ground feeling embarrassed. Our affection wasn't something we were generally flamboyant about in public.

I still keep my head resting on his shoulder with a expression of someone who's not totally there. One brick short was what my mother used to tell me whenever a partially grief stricken relative showed up to visit the victim she was tending at the time. I can still vividly see the faces of those people who seemed almost mad with hopelessness.

"Shall we?" Hazelle asks sweeping her arm to gesture to the door, with the broadest grin I've ever seen grace her face.

I open my mouth to speak but I've relapsed into a silence where I want to say something, to fully express my gratitude for helping me earlier, but I can't find the words to say it.

"Sure," Peeta says and together we walk out of the building into the warm air. I'm silent the whole way home, lost in thought, walking, but not all there. I'm aware of the happy chatter around me as Peeta and Vic exchange jokes.

As soon as we make it inside I shake off my stupor and coax a fire out of the coal in our fireplace.

Posy flops onto the rug by the hearth and lets out a dreamy, content sigh. She fiddles absently with a dark, bouncy, curl.

The flames jump to life and I go to the kitchen where Peeta is already by the fridge, no doubt looking for the bread so we can do the Toasting.

"Where's the bread?" He asks turning around to look at me.

"You're asking me?" I rub my temples, eyes closed, trying to remember. "Bottom, bottom self in the very back…I think." I conclude.

He frowns then looks again. I can hear fruit and vegetables being shoved aside. "Found it." He dumps the loaf of bread in the plastic wrapping on the table.

I move towards the cupboards to get everyone a glass and as I'm standing at the sink I ask quietly, still concentrating on my glass with ridiculous intensity, "How was your day?"

"Fine," Peeta replies smoothly with the underlying tone that suggests everything was not fine. I really hate it when he does that.

I sigh and turn round to look at him. "Are you sure? Did you-you have a…moment?"

"No just waking up alone without knowing where your wife is, is kind of stressful." His voice is uncharacteristically cold and I pause for a second.

This isn't what I wanted on our first night of being married. Being cold and formal to each other is all wrong. It's like he's iced over like some machine. A slap in the face to me.

I can't stand the fact that he refuses to look at me so I stride over to him, place my hand atop of his, briefly then I reach up and give him a swift kiss on the check. Then I leave, handing each of our guests a glass of water.

"Hazelle?" I ask, not looking at her, but looking around in one of the drawers to find our tiny camera.

"Yes?" She asks.

"Do you mind getting a picture of us? For my mom."

"Sure. Of course I wouldn't mind." I toss Hazelle the camera then grab Peeta by the hand and drag him over by the couch. His face doesn't look as cold as it had a few minutes ago, but perhaps carefully reserved would be a better word. I immediately wrap my arms around his waist and smile up at him. With this tiny nudge of encouragement he unfreezes and we both turn our attention back to the camera just in time to see the flash.

When Peeta and I take our place by the fire the heat of it is just right.

With fumbling, stiff, fingers I tear off a chunk of bread and drop it close enough to the flames that it'll brown but won't burn my hands.

No one speaks as I gingerly take the chunk of bread of the pit and turn it over in my palms.

I feed Peeta the hunk of bread and then, not three minutes later he does the same for me.

The toasting is as simple as that.

And as soon as it's done I realize it was Peeta. It had always been Peeta and it had been from the moment he had confessed his love for me on TV. It just took me this long to realize it.

**I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter. Given how many songs I listened to when writing this chapter it would take almost two pages to list them all so I'll name just a special few.**

**Marching Bands of Manhattan, I Will Possess Your Heart, Cath…, You Can Do Better Then Me, I Will Follow You Into the Dark, Your Heart Is An Empty Room, Someday You Will Be Loved; Death Cab For Cutie.**

**Love Song; The Cure.**

**~Allie/Wanderer**

**Reviews?**


	7. Travelling

**I do not own the Hunger Games, sadly. **

**Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I had my wisdom teeth removed and if you've had it done, you know what a butt-kicker it is. Writing was not a smart idea. I doubt it would've made sense so I took a week break.**

**Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers!**

"Good morning love," Peeta says giving me a fleeting kiss.

"Morning," I mumble through a yawn, not fully awake or aware of what I'm doing. I shake my head to see through the wild, tangled mess that is my hair. I slid in to a seat at our table and run my fingers through my hair absently trying desperately to work out the knots embedded in my scalp with no luck.

Reaching out I pluck out a bright, shiny, green apple from the bowl, in the centre of the table that's reserved for fruit and, proceed to take a bite. The sour flavour bursts in my mouth assaulting my taste buds. I never had apples when I was younger, they were too expensive, and each time I eat an apple I savour it like it could be my last, because it could. Or any fruit for that matter.

Peeta takes a seat next to me and chooses a pear. "You slept in," he notes looking at the clock on our wall.

"Why what's the time?" I turn around and look up. It's almost nine in the morning. I did sleep in. I try hard to keep the accusing note from my voice now, "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to disturb you." He admits.

My accusation drops, he's right. It's not often that both of us sleep that well for that long. "I must admit I did sleep pretty well after that nightmare." I shudder violently as I vividly recall the dream. My dream was disturbing and unsettling. _I had been in a white, spotless room with nothing in it except a single light. In my hand I held a single knife with a long blade. Perfect for throwing. _

_I had stared at it, transfixed for what seemed like several moments. Then I glanced up. My eyes focused on what they hadn't noticed before. Two motionless figures standing a mere fifteen feet away from me with their hands behind their backs. _

_Then suddenly I understood what the knife in my hand meant. I had to choose. One had to die. The knife in my hand had started to shake like a leaf in the wind and my hair flew back and forth as I tried to come to a decision. _

_An expressionless woman stood beside me, murmuring instructions to me, but I could barely hear. "Choose," she murmured quietly, just loud enough for me to hear. "Now or they both perish."_

_I spared another glance at both of them before, closing my eyes and throwing the knife with all my might to the left. The knife buried itself right up to the hilt in Gale's chest. Red liquid seeped from the wound, a flower blossoming across his chest. That's how I had to think of it. The only way I would make it through. He gasped looking at his chest horrified, and fell to his knees, gasping for the breath his lungs couldn't supply. He coughed up blood. And then more blood as the life slowly drained from him like some cruel hourglass._

I had just stood there horrified at what I had done. Unable to believe it. I had just killed Gale.

The woman beside me made a clucking sound on the roof of her mouth and started jotting down notes on her clipboard furiously saying things like 'interesting.' Then she gave a minuscule shake of her head and Peeta dropped dead. Just like that.

"Are you all packed for today?" Peeta asks, breaking me out of my horror induced mind, as I take another chunk out of my apple.

"Mhm." I reply my mouth still full of the delicious apple. "Well I think so; I might have forgotten my toothbrush." I'm not sure how coherent my sentence comes out but I think it was enough that Peeta understood it because he nods.

"I still have a few things myself." He admits, looking at the table.

"So we'll leave here twelve at the latest?" I ask just to confirm the time. He keeps repeating this over and over when I ask but it never sticks in my head. A long-term side effect from my concussion. And while I've long since ditched the list the doctor told me to try I know I should try and keep doing it to help. I don't.

He shakes his head. "Train leaves at eleven-thirty, so we need to leave here at eleven." I must say I'm impressed; he has this all down to a tee. It reminds me of Effie and how she had everything planned to the last minute. Actually it makes me feel a little pathetic and useless. I'm the one who was all excited to see Gale yet here Peeta is, planning everything, checking everything over, getting the train times, it must be making him sick to his stomach to do all that, but he looks surprisingly calm. Perhaps he's just hiding it carefully, like I do at times.

My answering smile is sheepish, but I continue to look him in the eyes. I refuse to be the wife who ducks her head when she's done something not quite right and mumbles 'sorry' under her breath. "Uh right."

I get up and dump the core of my apple in the garbage, it hits the bottom of the trash with a hollow _plunk_ . "I guess I should go get ready." As much as sitting around in my nightclothes all day sounds appealing I don't think that's suitable clothes to go and see Gale for the first time in years. A lovely impression.

Peeta nods, "Would you like me to bring down the luggage?" his voice is unusually quiet and tense and my foot, already on the first step of the stairs, turns and I cross over to him with silent steps.

I stoop down to reach eye level, feeling like I'm talking to a five year old isn't helping the situation, but he just looks so short sitting down in his chair. "Are you okay?" It seems like such a stupid insensitive question, but I can't think of anything else.

He nods again, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second before flicking away to the table.

I don't know what game he's playing at, or maybe he's not playing at all. Peeta is rather sensitive. Either way the look on his face is heartbreaking. I clasp my hands on either side of his face, forcing him to meet my eyes for a brief second before pressing my lips to his.

It's a short but very sweet kiss. He grins at me as I straighten up; then catches me by surprise and yanks me back down to his height so he can plant a kiss on my cheek.

The expected flush of colour floods to my cheeks and I turn quickly to hide it, then dash back up stairs.

I throw on some clothes, not caring what it is. Gale or Peeta don't care what I look like. I could never understand the girls at school who spent forty minutes picking out their clothes and doing their hair. I guess I never had the time to do it, but even when I did have the time I didn't bother with it. My days were spent trying to keep my family alive. Stuff to make my eyes pop? Forget it. The glamour was all for the Games and the cameras. Because those are both behind me and just staring at sticks of lipstick make my throat dry I avoid any form of makeup at all costs.

I cross the hall to the bathroom and select my toothbrush from the two. I've always been a little particular about my breath and teeth. Which is why my teeth are so white. I brush them about three times a day. I never used to but since I always seemed to be on camera when I was teenager I got a little paranoid. When you're under extreme pressure from the entire nation and you have to be as close to perfection as possible you develop little habits and quirks that come out in private.

I brush my teeth twice, check them in the mirror then head back to the bedroom, toothbrush in hand. Retrieving the little bag we set aside of our toiletries I stow my toothbrush away, and then I attempt to drag a brush through my hair without much success. My hair just looks like a giant fuzz ball.

I sigh and give up on it, deciding on just doing it in my natural braid. At least then it gives the idea that my hair is somewhat tame and not just a giant rat's nest.

I hear the shower turn on down the hall and jump a little, before reminding myself that it's just Peeta. I'm not sure I'll ever fully recover from the thought that I'm about to be sneaked up on. The scars are just too deep. They've lodged themselves too deeply in my chest. They're a part of me now. I doubt I'll ever get rid of them.

I let out a big huff of air and allow myself to relax. I sink onto the edge of the bed, with my head in my hands until my breathing slows and reaches a slightly more natural feel. I take another minute to calm my heart rate.

While I'm sitting here doing nothing I scan the room and see if I'm forgetting anything. Nothing. Peeta and I spent the entire last night packing and making sure we were prepared. We didn't want to leave anything behind because we won't be back for a couple of days. In the letter I had received from Gale he said he didn't care how long we stayed. Peeta and I had agreed simultaneously that anything more than three or four days was pushing it. I was worried I would kill Gale for saying the wrong thing about two days in. Another reason I refuse to leave Peeta behind. He can at least act as a peacekeeper if necessary. More likely than not it will be.

Hazelle seems to feel confident we'll be fine together but I'm not so sure. We're both explosive people with a lot of fire.

I pick myself up, pull myself together and continue to get ready. All there's let for me to do is pull on a pair of socks and then lace up my hunting boots. The soft leather is worn, the seams fraying in places but I don't plan on throwing them out anytime soon. After a second thought I toss my father's hunting jacket into the backpack. I don't have my father's hunting boots any longer but my own boots will suffice.

Peeta walks in, water glistening in his ash blonde hair. "Hello again," he says casually, smiling. His tone suggests that of someone who is mildly surprised to see someone in their house, was expecting them, but forgot.

The smile that breaks through my façade is reserved just for Peeta. "Why hello again." I say amiably, matching his tone.

Even this brief conversation between us, reflects just how well our marriage is going. We've been married almost three months and I think it's going rather well. Peeta are and I, we just work well together, we fit together. He lets me be independent but offers a hand when he sees me struggling through chores or trying to remember something. Reminds me to take my pills. Then when I'm being stubborn about something he helps me anyway even, when I refuse his help hands on, in his own way. Makes me laugh. I help him get through his episodes. We've been through a lot together and it shows, the way we rely on each other, value the others opinion. There was a time when I was confused, blinded by my emotions for Gale but after the rebellion it became more and more clear that it was Peeta. Of course I have my days where I doubt everything and wonder if I would be better off with Gale, but now all it takes is a simple smile from Peeta and caress of my cheek and the doubt is washed away. Most days.

Within the next hour we've left the house, Peeta locking it firmly behind him and slipping the little key into his pocket. He gives me a tentative smile and even though I feel sick to my stomach I manage to return a shaky smile of my own.

It's a hot, humid, June day and I'm starting to regret the choice of jeans. We each have a small suitcase but even that small weight, begins to feel heavy lugging it around. Normally I'm used to packing a couple of dead rabbits sometimes a squirrel and some greens, which all adds up eventually, so really this suitcase shouldn't be that bad. It feels roughly the same. I'm putting out less energy then I would hiking through the woods but after a while the backpack feels like dead weight.

Small kids play on soft, green front lawns as we pass by, their parents watching them carefully, soaking up the sun or sweltering from the heat and retreating to a shady tree. Windows are flung wide open; to help circulate the air and everyone seems to be enjoying the day.

Posy grins at us and waves as we pass by her house. She's playing on the front lawn with her two brothers, her energy far more than the two boys surrounding her. Rory and Vic are sprawled on the dying grass while Posy runs around them, laughing gaily and exclaiming, "You're it! You're it!"

Vic grumbles something and swats at her half-heartedly but she dances out of the way, laughing harder.

"Vic!" I call, slowing down.

Vic raises his head off the grass just enough to squint at me, his hand shading his eyes. "Yeah Katniss?" He shoves Posy playfully as she tackles him to the ground.

"Tell your mom the key is under the door mat." Hazelle and the kids agreed to look after our house while we were gone. The bakery Peeta runs in the town center is left in charge of the manager. Of course after the rebellion we weren't getting funded by the Capitol like all the Victors' used to be so I continue to hunt and Peeta continues to bake. We didn't leave much behind that will require close care. Just a few plants that I was attempting to keep alive. And if they do die it hardly matters to me. Hazelle has a green thumb while I do not. I can find plants that are edible, know which ones are deadly but can I raise a harmless house plant?

Vic nods. "Someone will be by tomorrow. See ya around, Katniss, Peeta. Say hi to Gale for us."

Posy jumps up from where she's sprawled out on the grass - after Vic pushed her down she stayed down -, runs over and gives us a giant group hug. For such a tiny girl she can sure pack a hug well.

"Bye!" She exclaims loudly. She lets us go then prances off to go and annoy her brothers more.

As we're walking away Peeta sighs, he glances back but the Hawthorne kids have retreated inside.

"What?" I ask.

He doesn't respond and we walk in silence to the rail station.

It's dead quiet, with no one around. A graveyard. Despite the heat a cold shiver works its way up my spine. The stench of the hospital in district 8 comes running back to me, the mass grave, the sound of a bomb on impact. The stench of the soiled bandages and moans of people who are dead now threaten to cripple me.

I close my eyes tightly because the world is starting to spin, I want to vomit. I'm going to be sick. My breathing picks up its pace. With a tremendous effort I somehow manage to push all the memories away. Mental breakdowns are not suitable right now. When my eyes reopen the sun seems brighter, the glare harsh in my eyes.

I squint, knees shaking and take baby steps over to the nearest bench, the only bench. The roof over the wooden bench offers at least a little protection from the harsh glare. I sit alone, waiting for Peeta and wondering where he actually disappeared to.

I don't have to wait long. He appears, hauling his luggage, carrying two ticket stubs for our pass. He takes a seat beside me, discarding the luggage onto the ground beside us. "Train should be here soon." He mutters.

After the rebellion the tribute trains, having no real purpose as they weren't made for shipping supplies and goods, only for carting the tributes to the capitol, became open to the public. For the sake of not having to run often you have to book a train on the day they run, state what district you're going to then they don't make any stops along the way unless it's to pick someone up who's booked or drop someone off at their district. With the districts being so far apart and so many people were displaced during the rebellion the trains had become the public transit for journeys across Panem. The tickets aren't exactly cheap and they don't run too often but at least people have some connection to people in other districts. Unlike before where all you knew about the other districts was what your school told you-nothing. The supply trains run far more often to deliver goods but they don't allow people to commute.

I sigh and lean my head against his shoulder, my legs curled into my sides. The same way we did our interviews after the first games.

It would almost be relaxing, the two of us sitting here, blissfully alone, if the sun wasn't quite so hot. Some things can never be perfect. Most things. Besides I would take the isolation over the sun any day.

Peeta takes my hand, clasping it gently in his and we just sit there quietly. No need to talk. Communicating silently with each other in a way I remember my parents doing. Mom and dad would just sit on the couch some days, hand in hand and sometimes one of them would smile as if the other had told a joke but no one had said anything. I'm not sure if they had their own form of the Morse Code going on or it was just natural that they could tune in to the others mood on those rare occasions. It wasn't so much as honing in to each other's mood but it was more like they could understand what the other didn't say.

My eyes close of their own accord. Blocking out the blistering sun. My eyelids are painted red, like blood.

In the distance I can hear the train rumbling along the tracks. It'll be rolling into the station soon I suspect. I know I should be getting up and getting my things together but it's just so nice to relax for once. So I allow myself to melt and be a vegetable a few minutes longer.

The sound of the train approaching gets louder, and louder. My teeth feel like they're rattling around freely in my brain. Not a pleasant feeling that you want to associate with often. With a great amount of reluctance I open my eyes. Move my stiff limbs and gather together my stuff.

Beside me Peeta is doing the same thing, just much more quickly and with more precision.

Zoning out for a couple minutes has given me the feeling that my head is connected from my body and it reminds me of the weird medical drugs I had taken back in Thirteen. It wasn't a fun time, it had been right after we had landed in Thirteen and I ended up having _another_ mental lapse so they gave me some medicine but for days afterward I didn't feel right.

The train rattles to a stop in the station loudly. Steam from the train is released and the smoke billows around us like a dense fog. My vision is obstructed momentarily for a second or two and when the fog clears the train that stands in front of us looks identical to the one I travelled to the Capitol in.

I sigh almost wishing we could have a newer train to travel in. This one, identical to the others, brings back memories that I wish would stay away.

I seem to be having some serious issues with bad memories not staying in their proper place, in the back of my mind, today. It's given me a massive headache. Headaches are something I'm accustomed to. Being the mentally disorientated one after all.

Peeta and I have to wait patiently for a few seconds that drag into minutes as the staff gets the train in order. Behind us another family, I don't recognize from town, is waiting behind us. A little girl, about five, with light brown hair is clutching her father's hand, tightly. The expression on her face is one of fear as she regards the train in front of her.

Her dad is speaking in low soothing voice to her but all she does is shake her head profusely back and forth, distinctly saying no looking terrified.

There it is again, that little sigh from Peeta. I look at him and find that he too, is watching the family over his shoulder but while I'm watching them with a blank gaze, Peeta is looking at them with tenderness in his eyes. I swiftly look away, pretending I didn't see a thing. I don't want to bring up that subject.

"What?" I ask quietly, keeping my voice down. We're within hearing distance and I'm paranoid about people over hearing conversations.

"Nothing," he waves his hand dismissively but continues to smile at the little girl. His expression changes to one of concern when the little girls begins to cry. Tears rolling down her cheeks in a steady stream.

The young girl sniffles and wipes her nose on the collar of her shirt at which her mom grits her teeth.

Her dad sighs and slings a backpack off his shoulder. He unzips it in a single fluid motion and starts to dig around. Within a few seconds he takes out a bright little stuffed fish and offers it to his daughter.

She stops crying at once, squeals and clutches the fish tightly to her, rocking back and forth. Her fears forgotten. How I wish all my troubles could be solved that way. With a stuffed animal that I could clutch tightly to my chest. Only they can't be. My pains require pills and someone to remind me that I'm not alone and there is a light switch in my dark closet.

The mom and dad exchange a look, like they're saying to each other; another job well done again.

Peeta smiles and says loud enough for the family to hear. "She's adorable."

The mom looks up at us. Murmurs a 'thank you' and boards the train, which is ready for us.

The dad passes up the luggage to the mother then offers to take a meager two suitcases. I shrug and hand our luggage over.

After the entire luggage has been loaded on the dad lifts his little girl with gentle hands and passes her over to his wife. The young girl is giggling her head off now, worries forgotten.

I board last, allowing Peeta to get on ahead of me so he can get us a seat. Of course, Peeta being a gentlemen waits patiently for me to get on. I grab both handrails and heave myself up wondering if the train was quite so high last time I was in it.

I scramble aboard. Grab the luggage and Peeta and I move to go and find our seats. The interior of the train has been modified for passengers. Rows of seats have replaced the rooms I remember.

Peeta leads me over to a row of seats that are for now unoccupied. Though with only six passengers on the train I doubt we'll have to worry about neighbors.

Swiftly storing away our luggage in the space overhead I take a seat next to the window and glance out. The seats are soft and made of some kind of fabric. Velvet I think. Running my hand along the smooth surface of it I continue to gaze out the window at the stilled landscape in front of us. It's amazing how different it can look out a window. How it looks like something from a different world. Thousands of miles away and yet it's right there and the only thing that's separating me from the woods is a little bit of Plexiglas.

The presence of another body alerts me that I'm not alone. Peeta is here with me. For a moment I had completely forgot. His body is nice and cool squished against my sweaty one. I smile and allow myself to move a little closer to him.

I've done it. I've finally done it. I've done the thing Peeta's been trying to get me to do for all these years. Open up. Open up and allow myself to love another. The death of Prim had sent me spiraling downwards to the point where I just stayed in a chair and stared at the wall and did nothing. I was an Avox. I think of the rose bushes outside my house Peeta planted and I almost smile.

As if I'm not already close enough, Peeta wraps a protective arm around my shoulders, holding me against him. I never have to leave these arms. They're mine forever. And I love it.

Making sure the other family isn't watching us I reach up and give him a quick kiss and wind my fingers through his hair. The response it effective, satisfactory and immediate. He pulls me onto his lap and holds me closer. Unfortunately I'm the one who has to pull away because I can feel the gaze of someone's eyes on my back.

I turn my head around almost the entire way to glare, thinking it's going to be the somewhat snotty mom and find it's the little girl instead. Watching us with a big smile on her face but it's a slightly perplexed smile. Like she's wondering what exactly I'm doing on Peeta's lap.

I blush, look down and make to move away but Peeta holds me closer. His blue eyes boring into mine, intensely. "It's fine." He says quietly to me. I can't refuse him when he's looking at me like that. I shift a bit so I'm sitting comfortably in his lap and lean back.

With a groan and squeal of nails on chalkboard the train begins to move. It's a decrepit old thing. The train moves agonizingly slow at first but it slowly starts to gather momentum until we are, as I remember from last time, hurtling along the train tracks at break-neck speed, the carriages swaying gently, rocking back and forth like some crazy fast-paced lullaby, in time with the train.

The little girl across from us continues to stare at us, transfixed. She's still clutching the bright fish like it's a lifeline and if she lets go there'll be chaos and war. Perhaps she remembers us from an old photo of us in our teenage years or something. It's honestly the only thing I can think of to make sense of why she keeps staring at me.

Thinking of mentioning something to her parents I lean across the aisle, ignoring Peeta's groan only to find that both parents have completely collapsed in their seats and are now slumped unconscious. The dad's cheek is pressed tight against the window with his mouth hanging open, a little bit of drool pooling from this angle.

The girl, yawns and I think maybe I'll be free from her stare for a few hours, turns and looks out the window. I immediately pounce on this opportunity and use it to talk to Peeta.

"We should be in Two around seven this evening." Peeta says thoughtfully when I ask what time we should arrive.

I've never been skillful in carrying out a conversation and right now my brain feels so overloaded that after exchanging a few sentences with Peeta I drop out of the conversation distractedly and think about the long awaited and nervously anticipated trip to two. I'm not even sure what to expect. Certainly no hugging. A slap? I doubt it but my mind is blank whenever I try to come up with a scenario.

Suddenly I begin to wonder if I remembered to pack my medicine. Certainly someone on pills should remember to bring them but suddenly I can't remember if I did or not. I make to ask Peeta about it but when I look at him I notice his eyes have dropped the life in them, leaving them dull and tortured looking. His body, relaxed just a moment ago, is rigid and his hand is clutching the edge of the seat.

I breathe in deeply, I knew this was coming. It's been so long since Peeta had a moment that one was bound to sneak up on us sooner or later.

"Peeta?" I prompt silently, glancing around I see no one is paying us any attention. Good.

When I get no answer from Peeta I assume he is too far gone in his flashback to answer me. Although it's worrisome, it's nothing new.

His hand, grasped tightly on the edge of the seat is twitching spasmodically and his breathing is labored. He's muttering something under his breath, I can't hear what it is but I don't want to know. I don't want to know what horrors he's reliving and nor do I want to begin to comprehend. I have enough horrors to contend with.

I no longer have to worry about my safety when a moment like this passes around. Now I just grit my teeth, wait until it's over then offer him my hand and strength and if he needs anything else I fetch it for him.

The episode seems to last forever, and my own body is rigid at having to watch this, and then finally, Peeta's hand relaxes on the seat and his eyes slowly open a light sheen of sweat covering his face, from the effort of keeping himself in his right mind. He looks straight at me, his eyes completely sane, a little beaten looking but sane. Manages a weak smile at me then leans his head against the chair.

I leave him in silence for a while, knowing his preference for quiet after these moments and quietly stare out the window. After a while it loses its glory. I've already seen this landscape so why look again? But either way I keep my silence and for an hour the only sounds are the girls fingers tapping relentlessly tapping on the window.

Eventually I'm made aware that we have a visitor by a little almost timid, "Excuse me?"

I turn and find the little girl is sitting across from us looking nervous.

"Um…Yeah?" I ask, feeling foolish. I'm so bad with children.

"Well you just looked lonely so I can to talk to you." The little girl responds making it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To a six year old it probably is.

"Oh, well. Thanks?" It ends as a question. I don't know do I thank her?

She pulls out a pack of cards and lays them on the table in front of us. "Do you play? Because I really don't want to play by myself again. I'm Wisteria by the way."

Peeta leans forward and smiles at Wisteria. "I'll play with you."

"Good. Do you play 'Go Fishy'?"

The next hours are dedicated to playing Go Fishy. Even when her parents wake up from their suspiciously short nap we continue to play. Wisteria wins every game. I'm terrible at cards but I think Peeta just lets her win.

I drop out after five games and just watch the cards shuffle hands and after a while my eyes just glaze over. As I watch I notice how capable Peeta is when put in front of lonely six year olds. He laughs at all Wisteria's jokes, smiles and contributes more to the conversation then I ever could.

I know Peeta craves a family. Needs one almost. I can never decide if it's an aftershock of realizing his family was dead without being able to say goodbye or if he's just always wanted one. Even though I know he wants one, he's never brought up the topic yet. Maybe he thinks it's still too soon into our marriage but I don't plan doing it. Children are hazardous. I'm horrible with them. Can never figure out what's wrong with them. Crying, always crying. Or eating. Sometimes sleeping, but mostly crying. And it drives me up the wall. I'm also terrified of them. My fear that they'll be reaped or something horrible will happen to them is not gone. It's lodged into my mind, way in the back. But definitely there. How could I bring children into such a chaotic world? I'd have to explain everything to them, about the Games. We have the book but I'm not confident enough in my ability to put it in a child-friendly way. They teach about it in school. Posy's told me. But then there would be questions. Peeta isn't exactly stable. This has been my excuse forever if he ever brought it up. But he'll never get better. He'll always have his moments. Yes, a child-free environment is safest right now. Until I can't convince Peeta any longer. I know that day will come soon but I plan to hold it off as long as I can.

It starts to get dark outside the window, tuning the world into a dark and dauntingly forbidden world. The trees look more intimidating and the long sweeping branches take on a menacing quality to them. It feels ridiculous to be thinking of a simple harmless tree that way but I can't stop myself. No matter how ridiculous I know it is.

Sleep. I could probably do with some well deserved sleep but I can't shut my mind off. Because I know if I do, the night terrors will come again. And today I don't think I could handle it. If I were to sleep what horrors would my brain unleash upon me? I don't want to know. There is any number of them.

But when my eyelids droop and I can't keep my head held up I know I'm losing a hard battle. At some point I'll have to give in. And maybe a well rested Katniss would be better than grumpy Katniss when we get to Gale's. At least a well rested Katniss could shake his hand and make a few jabs at an unavoidable awkward conversation.

I curl inwardly on myself, contorting myself into the smallest ball I can manage. When I've accomplished bringing my knees up to my forehead I close my eyes, indistinctly aware of Peeta's hands brushing the stray bits of hair away from my face. With his warm hands caressing my face and my fatigue the irresistible happens. I succumb into unconsciousness.

Only to wake up an hour later, screaming my head off as the rose scented mutts ripped my head off.

Someone, probably Peeta, had draped a blanket over me but because of my tendency to flail around when I sleep, it's in constricting tangles around my body, making me feel trapped in a net.

As soon as I realize there is no immediate danger I stop my screaming and look around, sheepishly. Wisteria and her parents are staring at me in shock, like I just lost my mind. Usually the looks are just of pity, which is downright annoying but they're looking at me like I'm insane.

The only thing I can make myself do is look away from their gaze and look out the window. Nothing to look at.

After Wisteria's parents realize I refuse to look at them they start to talk. It's so hushed I can't make out what they're saying but it makes me feel uncomfortable.

By the time Peeta gets back I'm actually glaring out of the corner of my eyes at Wisteria's family. No one notices.

"What happened?" He asks, pulling me closer to him.

I lower my voice so Wisteria's mother, who's looking at me expectantly, cannot hear, "Nightmare."

He sighs looking tired.

When the train finally stops, it's late. Maybe nine in the evening. Peeta was wrong about being in at seven. And the bit of sleep wasn't enough. I'm groggier then ever and I stumble rather than jump from the train. Peeta steadies me, smiles at me, asks if I'm ready.

I nod and as we start to walk away Peeta says goodbye to Wisteria and her parents. Apparently he's been making friends while I was passed out, trapped in my own world. I stand there, looking like a board, stiff and unresponsive as he says goodbye. He gives Wisteria a pat on the head, mussing up her brown curls. She smiles and laughs joyfully.

We had received very simple directions on how to get to Gale's house enclosed in the last letter we had received. He's living in town but close to the woods. No surprise there.

It feels cooler here in Two, perhaps because we're in the mountains, but it feels nice, cooling my internal temperature.

It's actually peaceful walking through the quiet town, people's lights are on in their homes and a few streetlights dot the roads, beaming bright light onto the street.

We walk quietly, without talking, down the roads of neat orderly houses after roads of neat orderly houses. We turn onto Gale's street and find that he's living closer to the forest then we expected. His backyard will literally be open to the woods.

I grab the piece of crumpled paper shoved in my pocket and pause for a moment to smooth it out on my knee. Squint at it in the bright fluorescent light and read my untidy scrawl. I look down the street and guess that we should find his house about halfway down the street.

In the dark it's hard to find the address but after squinting at the white house for two minutes we're almost positive we're at the right place. The house seems to glow in the dark it's so bright but when we walk up the walkway and stand in the porch beam and then our thoughts are confirmed. We're here. Five feet from Gale.

Peeta and I stand there for a moment staring at the glossy red door before I finally raise my knuckles and knock.

My insides are squirming like something wants to throw itself to its death and I'm feeling nauseous. Oh so nauseous.

A quiet voice grumbles inside the house.

Then a thin sliver of light throws the yard into relief, making us squint in the sudden flood of light. The door is opened wider and what I see doesn't comprehend at first. Then Peeta and I are both grabbed by our wrists and pulled inside.

**Song: The Cave, Mumford and Sons (amazing band, seriously) . Hate to leave you guys with a cliffhanger but a little suspense never hurt anything/anyone. If I didn't this chapter would've been more than double this. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. **

**Wasn't sure how Peeta's episodes would be so I improvised and my mom and I came to the conclusion that Katniss/Peeta would both be heavily medicated later in life.**

**There's a poll on my profile and it'd be great if you offered me advice, I trust you guys to help me.**

**Please Review :D**


	8. An Unexpected Surprise

**Disclaimer: All rights belong to their respective owners. Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me!**

**Thanks to my reviewers! **

**Just a little notice, you can expect the next chapter to take longer than usual. I seriously have to finish the script. I have one month to finish it.**

"Hello! I was starting to get worried? Did you find the house okay?" She asks in a hushed voice, risking a glance over her shoulder

.  
Wait, wait. _She?_ Where the hell is Gale? We've been tricked, fooled. Some crazy woman played as Gale and lured us into her home to… To do what? Kill us? Question us? I can't believe Plutrach sent me the wrong address. Fury bubbles up inside of me, hot and angry and I want to bolt. I want to grab Peeta and race down the street. Back to the safety of the new District 12.  
But no, I'm trapped. My feet feel like they're glued to the carpet and I'm motionless, a helpless robin, with broken wings waiting for a bird of prey to swoop down.

"Hi?" The woman waves a hand in front of my face and I blink in response. Her voice is hushed like she doesn't want to be overheard.

"Who's at the door?" The new voice is rougher, deeper. Baritone. It's a voice I could recognize anywhere. The voice brings back a flood of memories; long days spent foraging in the woods, fishing at the lake, ranting about the Capitol. A voice I've known for many years but haven't heard it for longer then I've known him. Gale.

The woman sighs, looking nervous, like she's been anticipating this moment but is now dreading it. She's walking to the gallows. I recognize the face. Tightlipped, colourless face, fearful eyes. "Um, no, no one. It's nothing. I'll handle it."

So Gale is here. That's something at least. I'm still confused by the turn of events.  
Peeta and I stand in the doorway, completely baffled and shell-shocked. We look at each other and the expression on our face mirrors the other. What the _hell _is happening? Who is this woman? And what the hell is going on right now!

Some crazy woman has answered the door and Gale is here, so he's obviously in on the joke. That's all it's been, a joke. He never wanted to see me; we were just lead here under false pretences. I should feel anger, or fear but all I feel is a creeping numbness, like morphling injected in my veins. Unlike before, I no longer welcome the numb feeling. It used to take the edge off the pain, but I'm trying to wean myself, metaphorically, I'm teaching myself to cope in different ways.

The woman stands back a little, to get a better look at us. My survival instincts have kicked in, a little late but better than never. My first urge is to punch her, then run away. Or take an arrow and pierce her heart, which I don't have and maybe that's good for her. Thousands of possibilities race through my mind in less than a minute. I shake my head to clear myself of the scenarios. I tell myself that by some degree I am safe because Gale is somewhere around here. I heard him.

"I'm sorry this must be confusing for you." She begins softly. Now that I can see her, it's easy to tell she's what my mom would call a 'bomb-shell.' The first comparison that comes to mind is Glimmer. Same long wavy golden blonde locks, big blue eyes, soft and curvy. Gracefully arched eyebrows. Her face is all curved where I'm all angles. She's much like Glimmer until I get to the body. Her stomach is protruding from the rest of her body in a telltale baby bump. She's eight months pregnant. At least. But she hasn't seemed to gain any weight except in the stomach. Her lips curve up into an embarrassed smile. "I'm Addalyn and your Peeta and Katniss of course. Come in, take off your shoes. This might take a while to explain."

The last thing I want to do is take off my shoes and make myself at home but I'm desperate to understand the sick twisted game we've been enrolled unwillingly in. I reluctantly follow Peeta's lead and take off my shoes. He takes my hand, gives it a reassuring squeeze.

When I look up, I find someone has joined our small crowd. Perhaps confused about what was going on and looking for answers, Gale is now in our midst looking thoroughly confused. Quiet, as always but powerful. He hasn't changed much during the years apart. Same black hair, olive skin, gray eyes, tall, muscular. Same haircut even. Same intense feeling around confusion wears off quickly to be replaced by disbelief then anger. His face is turning red and he's staring wordlessly from Addalyn to us.

We've been duped. Tricked. Played for fools. Won the Games, led the rebellion, survived with each other and now here we are easily sucked in by the promise of forgiveness and wanting to see an old friend. Such easy prey we are! I of all people should've seen the treachery displayed in the letter! Gale would never reply. I had caved in during a moment of weakness and this is where it took us! I will never write another letter like that again.

"Addalyn what the HELL?" He roars, looking wildly between the three of us. His face contorts into something close to pain when he catches sight of Peeta and mines intertwined hands.

Obviously the years apart haven't cooled him off. In fact it seems to have only fuelled his rage and resentment. Wonderful. His gray eyes lock on mine and look at me like it's my entire fault we're in this confusing mess. He looks quite demented, his face pasty red, eyeballs bulging.

"I thought marriage meant no secrets!" He rants loudly. Which means…Addalyn is Gale's wife, and she's heavily pregnant.

I receive my second shock of the night. Gale is married. The thought had never struck me before. It's hard to think of Gale having a life that didn't involve me, it's vain and self-centered of me to think that. Now he's married to Addalyn for who knows how long and she's pregnant. Of course I knew he had kissed many girls in Twelve but I never thought he'd move on. Of course he would. He's forget all about the girl on fire. Now I'm in this awkward situation where I'm the one feeling hurt and betrayed.

_Pointless_ I remind myself. _Completely pointless. You have Peeta._

__Addalyn sighs. "You're going to wake Alexandreus."

Oh wait. He already _has_ a kid with Addalyn. Great, I'm so happy for him.

Gale, looking even more furious at the idea that he should calm down, lowers his voice a bit dangerously. Never a good sign, it just means he's more furious than ever. He always has been a loose cannon.

"Can I please just explain?" Addalyn begs to him, caressing her giant protruding belly.  
Now would be a good time to leave, to let them sort out their differences. I glance at Peeta to see if he'll follow. We lock eyes, silently communicating, and he shakes his head, mouths "Give them a chance. We can't go now."

Fine he won't come but I could leave him if I have too. Yank my wrist out of his grasp and make towards the door but his arm shoots out, baring my way out. He winds his strong, unbreakable grasp, around my waist and pulls me into his abdomen. No escape I'm trapped. It's a bad move though. He knows I hate being in this position, man-held and trapped. It reminds me of all the nightmares I have about Peacekeepers, Coin or President Snow, taking me hostage and killing me. Before I know what I'm doing I flail, jerk my elbow back, aiming for the face. I'm beyond consoling now. I'm trapped in my own terrifying thoughts. The room seems to swirl before my eyes, transforming, morphing into something truly sinister.

There's a crack and I think I just broke someone's nose.

"Ouch!" The restraining arms release me and I bolt forward, trapped, having my own flashback. If this is what it's like for Peeta, I don't blame him for acting the way he does after.

I unlock the door and start down the pathway. I make it to the end of the path before I trip and splay out face-first onto the pavement, skidding a few or so inches along the rough pavement.  
There is shouting behind me, suddenly two sets of strong arms, pick me up off the ground and set me on my feet. One dusts off my clothes while the other mops off my face with too much force to be considered helpful. I spit out rocks and dirt and allow them to help me back inside.

"Couch?" A voice asks and I recognize it as Peeta. Everything seems a little hazy and it's hard to concentrate on shapes and colours.

Together Peeta and Gale settle me on the couch, moments later Addalyn comes bustling in with hot chocolate and a towel. She offers us each a glass and gives me the towel then takes a seat herself. "Oh do you want a napkin for your nose?" She gets up before Peeta can answer and comes back with a white tea towel. At least I think it's white. She thrusts it at him then takes her seat next to Gale.

I mop up my face gingerly, feeling the cuts and bruises, the small stream of blood trickling down my face. I'll most likely have a black eye from this.

I look at Peeta and see his twisted nose. I've hit my husband. Broke his nose. Guilt drowns me but there is no shame. There's a loud crack as Peeta resets his nose.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"It's fine Katniss, you have quite the aim. I'll just have a crooked nose for the rest of my life. It's not seriously impairing anything." He mutters, only making me feel worse. His ability to forgive me is astounding.

It's a tense moment all around. On one hand Gale can't throw us out in the dead of night but on the other hand he really wants to. He keeps shooting me venomous glances. "I think is as good as time as any to explain this mess." He says loudly looking at his wife.

Addalyn sighs and rubs her stomach soothingly. "Okay, well-"

The sound of little footsteps tread carefully down the stairs and a little boy no more than seven walks into our midst, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His blonde hair is squashed against the right side of his head and his blue eyes are only half open. Mouth open in a giant yawn.

"Mommy?" He asks, clutching his blanket closer to his chest. As far as kids come this one seems manageable. Of course though that usually ends up being wrong.

"Yeah Alexandreus?" Addalyn asks looking relieved for an excuse to avoid the conversation.

"I can't sleep." He mumbles, looking exhausted. "Someone was talking too loud."

Addalyn looks at Gale over her shoulder, smugly. Perhaps not the smartest idea given the events. Deciding that it would take too long to try and lay a five year old back down to sleep his mother gestures to the empty half of the couch her and Gale are residing on. "Fine, do you want to sleep down here?"

Alexandreus nods furiously and crawls onto the couch, wedging a space between his parents.  
Without a thought Gale drapes the blanket on the back of the couch onto his son's tiny body. With a small sigh Alexandreus squirms his way onto Gale's lap and closes his eyes.

May I just say Gale sure works fast? I mean Alexandreus is at the most seven. I don't know I'm not good with judging a child's age. The rebellion was almost seven years ago.

"Okay, _now_ you explain this, this situation you've gotten us into." Gale says to his wife, looking at her pointedly.

A nervous sigh sets us off. "Well you were at work. Alexandreus was at school so I was cleaning. And I may have gone into your study to clean. Honestly do you ever clean that room? I noticed the letter on your desk, read it."

"Which is against the law." Gale reminds her in a quiet hiss.

Her face is burning but she doesn't look away from his steely gaze. "I knew you weren't going to reply so I forged your handwriting. Quite horribly I'll add. I never thought it would pass but it did and that's how we're here today. I've been living with you for so long I can practically pass myself off as you on paper."

There's a tense and heavy pause as we all digest what Addalyn said. A perfect diabolical plan. Aside from the quiet girl she first presented herself as, it's clear she's a clever, witty little thing. A fox, sharp. The hunter, not the hunted.

"So we just kept sending letters back and forth. I even told Hazelle she was coming." She continues, warily.

"My mother knows!" He hisses in a low whisper, it doesn't take the bite out of the words.

"Of course." She replies coolly. "We talk all the time. So I invited them over and here they are! I'm sorry this must be so confusing for you." She addresses us apologectically.

Gale crosses his arms stubbornly, glaring at the wall, apparently too furious to even look at any of us. "Well they're not staying here!"

"Well of course they are! We can't just throw them out, they've come so far and paid for their tickets and left behind so much just to see you. And they'll stay for two weeks."

"Wait, wait." I finally interject, before now Peeta and I could get away with just watching this all play out and learn from it. Now I have to protest. "We agreed on a few days. Anything more than that is well…" I grasp for straws, we don't have much going on in our lives that really require us being home. "The bakery. We told Mitch we'd only be a few days."

Addalyn looks hurt. "Are you sure? You could always call him."

I try to ignore the look Gale just gave his wife. How can she be so calm?

I exchange a quick glance with Peeta, feeling exhausted and confused about everything. My recent breakdown isn't really helping anything.

Gale at Addalyn's words opens his mouth to protest.

"Gale," she says calmly, I don't know how she can act so calm when he's looking at her that way, I would've stormed off by now or hit him. "They're staying the in guest bedroom, for tonight at least. We can figure everything out in the morning."

At this Gale looses it completely and a furious argument breaks out, in low jagged whispers.  
"Be quiet!" Addalyn hisses, "I don't want to have to lay Alex down again!" It seems she has to repeat herself a lot before Gale understands.

I want to leave, this is all so wrong. We've messed so much up. How could I be so stupid? Gale obviously doesn't want to see us, least of all me. I can tell by the furious glares he's sending my way. Awkward, this is very awkward.

In the end Gale throws his hands into the air with a huff and growls; "Fine. Do whatever, I don't care. Just get it over with Addalyn. But I want them gone by tomorrow evening."

Underneath all these words are a plain threat, I can't say the open hostility surprises me because it doesn't. I was expecting this in a way. I had hoped we might manage to be a little more civil but I hadn't thrown in the factor that Gale might have a wife and a _family._ Now it seems obvious. Gale would never have written back, the handwriting was a clumsy and the way Hazelle kept smiling to herself whenever she asked when we were leaving. Stupid. So stupid.

Addalyn sighs and gets up carefully from the couch. I make to follow her but Peeta pushes me gently back down and says something that I need my pills.

That's when I begin to realize my entire fit of hysteria was an effect of forgetting to take my pills on time. I'm way over due. It seems obvious now, the paranoia, and the episode.

If it was tense before it's nothing compared to how it is now. All that's left is Gale and I. Sitting across from each other, both trying to look away from the other. But it doesn't work; our eyes are drawn to the place where the other sits, sneaking glances at each other then quickly looking away as soon as we catch the other looking. The fire in Gale's eyes could ignite the entire world. I remember the gaze too well. He had the same look constantly during the rebellion. The eyes that said he wanted to tear the Capitol down brick by brick.

The little boy, Alexandreus, I think that's what Addalyn called him, starts to snore, deeply, just like Gale used to.

Gale shuffles him with expert hands, barely disturbing the boy as he moves him gently to the other side of the couch. It's quite a change from how he used to be. Aside from his family Gale was about as good with kids as I was. I guess being a father can change that.

When Peeta returns with the small clear cylinder containing my pills, he alleviates some of the tension in the room. Allowing both of us to breathe properly.

"Here," He hands me the little bottle, than takes a seat next to me, watching me. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable to have him analyzing me this way. I nudge him in the ribs and his eyes, having nowhere else to look without it being uncomfortable, rests on the family portrait mounted on the wall.

After popping back two of the little brown pills like they're sweets I look at Gale for a brief moment before quickly looking away and realizing it's a bad idea. He's looking at me with a sneer and disgust.

Addalyns announces herself in the room with a "Your bed is all ready. I'll show you where it is." She looks at Gale, to assure herself that everything is fine, but what she gets is not assurance. Gale's grabbing a pillow clearly making himself a bed. How he intends to fit that tall, lean body on the loveseat I'm not sure.

"Ar-are you coming dear?" Addalyn squeaks.

He grumbles incoherently, apparently too furious for words.

Addalyn and Gale seem to have the same form of communication that Peeta and I, my mother and father have. She understands him and says thickly, "Alright then."

After a quick gesture to follow, Peeta and I, move cautiously out of the living room and into the cramped hallway.

I start toward my suitcases but Addalyn waves me away. "It's fine. Gale can get it." She waits patiently for him to arrive but he doesn't.

Under her breath a flood of profanity gushes. "Stop acting like a little girl that got her heart stomped on." She mutters furiously then waddles over and heaves our own suitcases and start to lug them up the stairs with one hand while the other protects her unborn child.

I'm no expert at being pregnant seeing as I don't have a child myself but this seems wrong. I remember when my mother was carrying Prim, dad tried to keep her from doing strenuous things toward the end. Surely someone as big as Addalyn shouldn't be doing something like that right? I'm not sure but it doesn't seem like a good idea to me.

"Can I take something?" I ask as soon as she's laboured five steps up.

From the living room either Gale snorts or Alexandreus's snore have gotten louder. Why do I suspect it's the first and not the latter?

"That'd be lovely thank you," she hands me the backpack and I follow after her up the stairs, noticing how steep the incline is.

She takes a right down the hallways, "This is Alex's room," she points to the first door, "that's the bathroom. Your room is right here." She points to the door near the end of the hallway. "The one next to it is the master if you need anything." She lowers her voice an octave or two. "I'm sorry he's being so rude and harsh. Give him a bit to come around. He just doesn't know how to handle this. In his defence I probably should have told him but I thought it would be a surprise."  
I would love to flat out tell her that maybe surprises aren't a good idea at anytime, but she already looks so frail and beaten down.

"Well your bed is all ready. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask." Her voice is muffled and sounds like a pound of bricks was dropped on her. With hunched shoulders and a defeated face she shuffles to the door.

"Addalyn?" It's Peeta voice that makes her stop.

"Yes?"

"Thanks. For everything." He says.

That little sentence does wonders.

She manages a smile and opens the door, prepares to leave us alone in the hallway in a house that we're openly not welcome in. "Oh and I promise he won't kick you out tomorrow. I won't let him." She assures us. "But you will stay for a while right? After he calms down?"

"I'm not really sure about that one." I begin, trying to state as firmly as possible that I'm uncomfortable. I think it's pretty obvious but she insists on being oblivious.

"We'll see in the morning shall we?" Peeta says, interrupting my lecture of the harsh reality of the world.

"Goodnight." She yawns, "Sleep in as long as you can. No rush or anything. Breakfast is whenever. Alex isn't in school. Gale isn't working. See you in the morning. Hope you sleep well." She closes the door behind her.

I clench my fingers around the cool metal handle and shove the door open.

The bedroom is modest but warm. Warm brown comforter, with matching pillows and sheet. Already turned down. That's all I notice. The bed.

I flop back on the bed, feeling exhausted and angry and confused. All I want to do is wake from this radical nightmare. Peeta looks the same way. He's methodically laying out the clothes and putting it in the little dresser. He throws me a pair of pyjamas and it lands in front of me on the bed, splayed out and inviting.

Without any reluctance I change and immediately worm my way under the cold covers, staring up at the blank ceiling, feeling conflicted. Too much is going on right now and it hurts to think about it.

Peeta flicks off the light and flops next to me on the mattress. His hand reaches out for me, tentatively, trying to gauge my mood and if I'll break his nose again. I feel awful about that.  
"Sorry about your nose." I whisper to the darkness.

"Forget it Katniss." Its quiet a moment, both of us staring at the wall of darkness surrounding us. No nightlight here like at home. "Do you…?"

"Not at all." I reply already knowing what he meant to say. I scoot myself backwards until my back finds his body and I allow him to wrap an arm around me, holding my hand, holding me close so we can both fight off our nightmares tonight.

"Love you." He whispers quietly.

"Love you too," I say back, feeling no reservations about it. Although saying it does make it sounds like a taboo, a violent one. Saying I love you to a man, who's not Gale, when Gale loved me and we're sleeping together in Gale's home. Loved being the past tense because he obviously doesn't love me now. Loathe.

Those are the last words we speak to each other that night, there's a plethora more that we should say but we don't. He knows I'm too overwhelmed to process much more.

I lay there for a long while, listening to the steady breathing of our breaths. The sound of life within our lungs. Listen to our hearts beat. Drums.

Peeta drifts off to sleep almost immediately but I lay there, listening to the muffled sobs of Addalyn in the next room.

Although her motives meant well, this is a mess. It's stressful and brings back bad memories. Memories that need to be locked away to keep me sane. I can't concentrate on the good memories because they all feel overshadowed by the terrible, unforgivable ones.

I'm unsure exactly what Addalyn is sobbing about but given the certain circumstance it's not hard to guess what. Pregnant people are scary, emotionally that is. Always so unpredictable. I guess I can't blame her, Gale did act harsh and he did look quite demented.

The red light from the luminous digital clock next to me, throws the red hue onto the ceiling in a sinister way. The lamps, harmless just a moment ago, are thrown into a more malicious light, now looking more like a blunt misshapen bat.

I immediately unplug the clock catching the time which boldly reads 11:42 before the light fades and disappears.

There now I can sleep. The sinister, unsettling blood like light has faded plunging the conscious into darkness which is no better than the red. Darkness helps me imagine the already too vivid scenes played on repeat in my head.

My fingers grasp the hot electrical wire and fumble with it, blindly trying to reattach it to its plug.

Suddenly we're cast into a strange twilight that paints the wall reds, that causes shadows to loom ominously above us, strangers watching us sleep. It's better then before I guess.

I stare at ceiling, watching the light blink, sending us into oblivion only to be saved a moment later by the swift flash of red that disappears into black again. Back and forth. Arguing back and forth of what should take hold. Sounds like what was taking place before. The blinking I can handle, total darkness, I can't. It debilitates me.

Ignoring it completely I just stare the ceiling, taking in nothing, seeing nothing.

I know why I can't sleep. I'm uncomfortable and afraid. Everything about this situation is wrong. Screams it at the top of it's lungs. It's exactly what I want to do right now. Scream. To know I cause that much strife between two people makes me squirm. I wish I could leave. I wait for the pill to set in, to let me drift off. A side effect, although quite a bother at times, is fatigue.

A short while later, I hear a bedroom door open farther down the hall. A minute later it's shut again. I don't hear the footsteps creeping down the hall. For just a moment I think the door to our room opens, but it's hard to tell because the hallway is as dark as the room. Gale moves without sound so he may have.

The idea is absolutely absurd.

Gale must wander into the master bedroom, because Addalyn ceases her crying and whispers, "Hi."  
He doesn't answer her, but I can hear her moving the blankets around.

It's quite pathetic, the width of the walls. So thin.

In my head I can imagine Gale giving his wife the cold shoulder, on his side, facing away from her. I wouldn't want to be in that room at that moment. Too much tension.

In the next room Addalyn chokes on her words. "I'm sorry. I didn't thin-"

Then Gale of all people, the man who loves to pick a fight, whispers. "Shh." He doesn't say 'I forgive you' or anything meaningless but shushes her.

I can hear the waterworks beginning again in the next room. "It was such a stupid move on my part." And on and on she babbles meaningless incoherent sentences. I try, I try to block them out. I don't want to hear this, it's private, none of my business.

But still, I can hear Gale in the next room. What he says isn't reassuring but I don't think either of us was expecting it to be. "It was a pretty stupid move," he admits. He continues speaking but it's not malicious or venomous. Quiet.

I can feel the initial adrenaline from the pill, wearing off, making my body feel like lead. My eyes close halfway, cutting my vision in half and making everything look strange and unfamiliar. Everything in the room is unfamiliar to me.

How I wish I was back in District 12, with my own nightlight and sheets to comfort me. Away from this mess, and Gale's fury and Addalyn's sobs begging for forgiveness. Safe. If such a thing exists. I want to pretend this whole thing doesn't exist.

We could go back home, today, earlier then we were supposed to, it'd give Mitch a surprise and Hazelle would be full of question that I don't want to face.

"I'm sorry." Addalyn whispers again, realizing, finally, what a mess she's put the four of us into.  
How I wish both of us could forgive her.

First thing I register in the morning is the light. It's flooding into the room, barely blocked by the thin wispy curtains. I stare at the ceiling and check the clock. It's still blinking 12:00 over and over. Groaning I roll over onto my side and pull the covers over my head and bury my head into Peeta's back.

He's not awake, just snores and the occasional twitch, which he's always done. It's hard to judge the time from the position of the window but it must be a somewhat reasonable time because I can hear voices in the kitchen downstairs.

I don't want to face anyone this morning. So all I do is burrow closer to my husband and wait for him to wake up.

"Katniss, wake up." A gentle hand nudges my shoulder and my eyes pop open, for a moment terrified, before lapsing into a calmer version of a glare.

"Yeah?" I mumble.

"You were snoring." Peeta replies smiling. "Anyway it's almost nine. I think Addalyn's losing a hopeless battle."

Good, the sooner we're out of here the better. I stretch my stiff limbs. "Nine?" I ask in disbelief. It's practically unheard of for me to wake up without a nightmare.

"I checked the time in the hallway. Are you hungry?" He asks and I can see his nose has set nicely, not as crooked as I thought it would be.

In fact, I am. Ravenous to be exact. Odd, I'm never hungry first thing in the morning. And despite the fact I'm feeling somewhat nauseous and I don't want to go downstairs and face Gale, hunger trumps fear every time.

Reluctantly I throw off the comforter and slide off the bed, warm feet hitting the cold floor. Peeta takes my hand, squeezing it gently the same he did when we shook hands on the Reaping Day.  
Somehow we both manage to squeeze down the narrow stairs side by side, now glued to the others side until we reach the bottom.

A cheery, nonchalant voice echoes from somewhere in the house. "Good morning you two! We're in the kitchen! Anyone want coffee?" In a quieter voice she says, "Alex, I said no, I'll get your milk in a minute."

A fridge door shuts in the distance and with Peeta leading the way, we wander into the living room. I cast glances over my shoulder and tread carefully, like every time I place my feet on the carpet the entire house might explode.

A few feet from the living room, cut off from the hallway, by the wall, is the kitchen.  
Addalyn is at the stove, cleaning the stovetop, and peering out the window at the bright light filtering in, undiluted. She smiles at us when we arrive through the arched doorway.

"Coffee is in the pot to my right. The dining room, is directly through that archway. I'll be in a second." She says in a rush, giving me a gentle hug. It's difficult around her stomach and I feel awkward. Like I'm violating a law, I don't really know her, and she's slightly mad. Not in the unstable way like Annie but more in the sense that she actually thought this would be good for us. I was never good with hugs so I just stand there for a second or two then back away and back into Peeta.

When Addalyn backs away, she's blushing like she understood she just overstepped a huge boundary. The wall is back up, nice and thick now. While I was sleeping it seems to have built itself up again with a ferocity, blocking everyone out but Peeta. I'm not one who's good with affection, giving or receiving.

My face is a blank mask and she mumbles an apology, her face filled to the brim with shame.

"Mommy can I have my milk now?" Alexandreus asks walking in, his blonde hair as messy as it was last night, dressed in his pyjamas which are decorated with little frogs.

Addalyn pushes her blonde hair out of her face, in distress and says distractedly. "Yeah, yeah honey. Go sit down. I'm talking." She looks like she aged twenty years in one night. Her eyes are red and puffy like she was just crying.

Her son turns and ambles out the room, rubbing his eyes.

Addalyn busies herself, grabbing mugs and a children's cup from a cupboard. She pours coffee into each mug, and then pushes two mugs in our direction.

I wrap my fingers around the mug, gratefully, even though I'm not much of a fan of the dark bitter liquid. Warmth, all I want from it is the warmth.

A sharp exclamation followed by a "Darn!" causes my head to swivel. Addalyn is bent over, clutching her head, the fridge door open. Under her breath curses stream out in a flood of things she would never utter in front of her child.

"Here, I'll take it." Peeta lets go of my hand and reaches for the milk in the fridge and proceeds to fill up the cup for Addalyn who is still clutching her head.

"Thanks." She straightens herself up with great difficulty. "Just a warning." She lowers her voice dangerously. "He's not in a good mood."

It's no surprise. Did she assume Gale was going to singing show tunes and skipping around?

Does she even know her husband? Does she know he killed Prim?

Prim.

I clench my eyes shut, trying to block out the memories. For once they don't break the barrier and spiral me downward into depression. Good.

There's no way we, or more accurately I, can put this off any longer so I start toward the dining room. Taking deep breaths and feeling queasy, but determined. I'm going to stand tall like I always have. I'll be strong.

I can be strong for everyone and around everyone else, even Gale, but these years have changed that. I'm afraid of what he could do. Of what I could do. I feel like a small child, when my father was still alive, that needs to be lead around and coaxed to meet people. Prim used to be like that.  
The dining room is floored with dark wood and light olive green walls. Filled with bright windows. A long dark table for six takes up most of the space.

I have a strong urge to whack the black haired man sitting in front of me, not oblivious to the fact that we've arrived, but giving us the cold shoulder with a grim determination that I have to feel awed and amazed by. What resolution he possesses!

Alexandreus is sitting to Gale's right, bent over, colouring with bright crayons. Gale is helping him, head down with a look of concentration. It's easy to tell he's using more force than necessary with the crayon. It looks like it's about to snap in half.

I take a seat at the opposite end of the table, the one place as far as way as I can possibly manage. Though not beyond my throwing range. Suddenly my coffee mug feels like a weapon.

Peeta slides the sugar in my direction, taking in my expression with a small shake of his head. I dump a couple scoops into the coffee, to sweeten it up as much as possible. Dilute the taste with milk as well.

Even then when I take a sip of the scalding liquid, I have to struggle not to spit it out as it burns my throat on the way down. I try and tell myself to enjoy it. Remind myself that it's a luxury I didn't have before.

Besides Gale is looking at me, through his messy hair, saying without words that if I spit it out and don't finish it, it's like I've just insulted his wife's cooking abilities. It's in his half hidden eyes, and the hard line of the mouth.

I purposefully take a long swig.

Before anything becomes too tense Addalyn backs in with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. She places it gently on the table and looks around with a strained expression that she's struggling to keep neutral.

"So…um…help yourselves." She says tentatively breaking the silence with a hammer.

I guess there's no point in telling her I lost my appetite. But what else is there to do? I'm stuck in a house with a man who hates my guts.

**Songs: Shadowplay (Killers or Joy Division. Both are great.)**

**Little Lion Man, Thistle and Weeds~ Mumford and Sons (An absolutely astounding band)**

**So who guessed something was up when Gale sent Katniss a letter back? Did anyone assume he was married?**


	9. A Walk in the Park

**Disclaimer: Sadly I have to do this again, but I own nothing other than some movie props and Addalyn and Alexandreus. The rest belongs to Suzanne Collins, lucky.**

**A HUGE thank you to all my reviewers/notification people. It's occurred to me that I don't think I've said thank you for everything. So thanks. Thank you for being wonderful. Don't forget to review! It seriously makes my day knowing people read this. It makes me feel like my writing career will be worthwhile.**

Breakfast. A terribly awkward and tense time for all of us. Maybe not everyone, certainly for me.

Addalyn and Peeta's jabs at making conversation aren't helpful. In the end they give up and just talk to each other. I would probably join in and at least attempt to take part in this conversation, apparently about the weather for today and today's agenda, if not for Gale's scowls and murderous glares in my direction. I can't meet the sneer plastered on his face. I just poke at my eggs and toast and shove a few bites down.

It's not that Addalyn isn't an excellent cook, she is, better than me. But I can't say I'm exactly in the mood for eggs.

"So Katniss, I was just saying to Peeta that you should probably dress for a hot day today." Addalyn says drawing my gaze reluctantly from the safety of my plate.

I nod.

"It doesn't get too warm in District 12 does it?" Addalyn continues in a false cheery voice. Even she is realizing the strain. She doesn't want it to affect her as well. You can tell by the determined look in her blue eyes. Or maybe that's just the determination to not realize how screwed up this is. Either way it's becoming tiring and painful to watch.

"I don't know. I can barely remember the temperature in the other Districts. It was almost seven years." I state truthfully. "I've always considered the weather in 12 to be quite warm." The words are stiff and formal. I feel like I'm talking to a stranger. Technically speaking she _is_ a stranger.

"Well I've never been to District 12 although I hear it's quite pretty there. I would suggest something light."

I almost snort into my plate. It's only the thought of the ever present Effie in my mind that stops me. Gale has no doubt played up District 12's beauty. Or lack thereof. It's prettier now I suppose, but the coal dust is still everywhere, coating the town in its gritty, grimy layers. It's hard to think of it as home, still.

"You should visit 12. It has some very charming qualities." Peeta says.

_Like what?_ I think cynically. It does have its nice qualities but there are a few things that I can't look past. The town square, the mines, the meadow, and the old site of the Hob. It's prettier than the old 12. The entire town is built on top of the old one, like a phoenix from the ashes. I just hope it doesn't go up in flames again.

"Maybe soon." Addalyn says vaguely, throwing a hopeful glance at Gale. He meets her eyes briefly and it's clear that it will _never _happen. Not while we live there anyway. If it will happen then it is definitely not the time to speak of it.

"I almost died in that town." Gale mutters. "I don't have any desire to relive it. I did it once."

It's clear he can't see anything worthwhile in the town but plays it up for Addalyn's sake.

"You mean," Addalyn begins in a soft voice, "For the old propos?"

Little Alexandreus has covered his ears with his hands, looking down at his plate with an anxious, tormented expression.

Addalyn sighs and begins to get up, to comfort him but Gale shakes his head.

"It's fine," He says with the most rational voice I've heard him use since last night. "I'll talk to him. I'm done anyway." He pushes his untouched plate of food away and picks up his son in one swift motion and carries the child out of the doorway with Alexandreus's hands still clamped firmly over his ears.

"Sorry," She begins apologetically. "He gets very upset when Gale speaks of the rebellion."

I don't have long to ponder on why the kid would act that way when he wasn't even alive back then, because Addalyn wipes her mouth daintily with her napkin and asks, "Are you done? I would like to take the pair of you to the market early, before all the good stuff is taken."

"So wait." I interject. "Are we staying or is Gale still kicking us from the house?"

Addalyn tries her best not to squirm under my gaze but her barricade of happiness is crumbling fast like sand. "We haven't quite reached that decision. But so far I seem to be winning. He hasn't kicked you out yet at least. And I promise you won't be. This is my house too." She ends fiercely a spark blooming in her eyes. Her fair hands are clenched into fists.

Hurriedly, my appetite renewed, I shove a few bites of the rubbery eggs down my throat and pass her the plate. "Finished."

Addalyn looks down at my plate skeptically but doesn't question it. Gracefully she removes our plates from the table and exits the room into the adjoining kitchen.

After a quick glance at Peeta, we both get up, chairs protesting against the hardwood, and follow after her. Eager not to be left alone in an unfamiliar house.

My hand finds his and my fingers intertwine through his. If Gale wants to act hurt and angry I plan on flaunting this in front of him. It's his fault after all. I refuse not to fight back.

Gale is in the hallway, on his knees to be eyelevel with his son, and is speaking in a low, quick but comforting voice. I can't make out what he's saying but it seems to have a positive effect on Alexandreus because he's smiling now.

"Go on and get dressed." Gale says patting Alexandreus on the back, who nods looking enthused and scampers off, stomping up the stairs saying; "The park! The park!"

Gale erects himself to his full height, easily taller than the rest of us. He looks somewhat awkward as he mutters with forced pleasantry, "I promised Alex I'd take him to the park, if you two don't mind." It seems to physically pain him to say the last bit. "It's very pretty there." He adds as if to break the tension.

"Sure I love parks." I say unexpectedly.

For the briefest of seconds I see Gale's lips twitch in an unmistakable smile. And for that brief second it's like its seven years beforehand and we're the best of friends. The rebellion wasn't even a question. The Games and the Capitol still hung over our heads but we could look past it. Nothing could stop us. We could live off each other. We had each other's back.

"Good," He replies, scratching the back of his neck, looking away from Peeta and I. After a few more seconds of it, Gale mutters something about having to help Addalyn with the dishes.

Upstairs in our room we say nothing. Other than a raised eyebrow it's the only communication while we change.

With strange, disconnected movements, I dress in robotic motions. Pulling on a pair of pants and top.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks in a concerned voice. It's the first word we've exchanged since breakfast.

I stop fighting to get the top over my head and realize that this entire time I've been trying to get my head through one of the arm holes. The result is now I have one arm hole that's larger than the other. I had almost succeeded with my absent minded dressing. To avoid further embarrassment I check to make sure my pants are on the right way. They are.

"Yeah?" I inquire, now attempting to wrestle my socks on my feet.

"You seem a little preoccupied and I know this isn't what we thought it was going to be."

"Because we both thought it was going to be smooth sailing." I shoot with more venom then intended.

Peeta continues on like I never interrupted. "But we'll get through this. Just a few days until Addalyn gives up and Gale slams the front door in our faces. I don't think he can kick us out until she gives up. Like she said it is her house as well, but she's losing and she knows it. Right now she's just trying to hold off as long as she can. Then we can go back to 12, no harm done other then knowing that bridge will never be repaired because he doesn't want it to be. At least now you can say you've tried. You know he's happy and well, that's good for me. What about you?"

"I just-just thought…" I trail off, my incompetence with words taking rein once more. "Things are different then I thought. I never believed he would get married. I think he was more opposed to the idea then I was. And I know children are not his thing." At this statement I pause because it's obvious I don't know anything about Gale anymore. "Things don't feel right." I finish lamely. "Nothing has ever felt right in my life. Everything the Capitol did and put us through was…" I once again find my tongue tangled up in words and feelings I can't begin to comprehend and express. It's going to be a long day. I can tell by the way I'm already drifting into unpleasant memories. "It's too confusing to even begin to sort through."

"You sound like you did after the first Games." Peeta nudges me gently and gives a little, encouraging smile, as if knowing what I'm thinking and struggling with. "Remember Rue and what you did for her. Remember what you did for Prim, buying the goat. Remember every good act you can think of." He urges.

I shake my head fervently, unable to think of one good thing.

"Our wedding day?" He suggests. Of course that would be a happy, glorious day for him. While all I can think about is my breakdown that morning and the rush to the altar.

"You mean the morning I had a breakdown?" I ask cryptically.

He frowns at my unwillingness to compromise. "Fine then what about your seventeenth birthday?"

"You mean the year we weren't talking and Gale was still mad at me and the Capitol wanted to kill us all?" Glumness has taken over now. The creeping numbness in my hands snaking its twisted, cruel way into my bloodstream where it'll take over.

A sigh is my only reply. It's silent while he debates what he else can conjure up. It's remarkable he can think of anything happy and nice at all. Not when there's so much corruption and terror in the world. Although Plutrach still insists we're in the happy 'Let's not kill each other phase. Our past deeds were wrong, blah, blah.' Phase."

The next second his lips are on mine in an unexpected kiss. My eyes widen in surprise and I remain motionless as he tries to make me feel something, anything other than the sense of drowning. He's trying I know he is.

After a moment of indecision I give in and kiss him back. A spark, somewhere in my body, flares up, filling me with warmth and heat. My fingers twine in his hair. The more I kiss him the better I feel until I'm almost completely filled with a strange form of happiness. Strange because I can still acutely feel the pain but happy at the same time. It only mixes in with my confusion.

A loud knock interrupts us. I pull away immediately just in time for the door to open. Addalyn, accompanied by Gale, is standing in the doorway. Addalyn is grinning at us, noticing our close proximity.

"Just thought I'd let you know that we should get going soon. Another five minutes or so. Alex always takes a while to put on shoes." She closes the door still grinning but Gale's face is impassive.

"Anything?" Peeta breathes, searching my eyes. "Anything at all?"

A small, weak smile breaks through the misery. "A little." I say giving him a small kiss on his lips. "Thanks."

"What would you do without me?" He asks trying to make it sound like a joke but underneath I can hear the curiosity.

"Oh I'd still be living off squirrels and living off my pills."

"Not that you don't do that now."

"True, very true."

"Next time. Just try and remember something good. Something happy."

In loose terms that's how my game started. Officially at least. The idea had been there for a while I guess. Just never put into action. Some days with be difficult, if I choose to stick with this current approach at avoiding depression. I wonder if my doctor would approve. Not that I really care. I still have to talk to him over the phone in which I make up cheery lies that he sees right through.

The hallway is crowded when we inch our way down the stairs. Gale is on his knees trying to help Alexandreus tie up his shoes. Alexandreus is watching his father with rapt attention, seemingly overjoyed watching his dad struggle to tie a knot.

Addalyn waves us forward her face gleaming with uncontained excitement. By her feet sits a small bag she could easily swing over her back. While she raises a blond eyebrow at my clothes she doesn't protest.

Cautiously avoiding the two in the middle of the hallway I stand beside Addalyn and lace up my boots. The feeling of being overdressed is overwhelming. Everyone around me is dressed in such light clothes. It can't be _that_ hot though.

"Good we all ready?" Addalyn chimes cheerily. Without bothering for someone sane to protest that this is all madness she pushes open the door.

You can see my skid marks on the pavement. Just a faint touch of red marring the otherwise gray concrete.

As we cross the street one of their neighbours' leans out of the window and hollers to Gale.

"Hey man, what was going on last night?"

"It was nothing Byrne." Gale mumbles walking toward the couple. "Some surprise company that's all."

The girl, the one who called Gale's attention, Byrne, raises her eyebrow. "That's some surprise." She drawls slowly smirking. "We saw some girl running down your driveway like a maniac and trip. What were you doing in there?"

"Sorry she forgot to take her pills." I don't miss the jab Gale makes to make me appear to be more crazy and unstable then I already am. It's like he's trying to make the neighbours hate me.

Byrne laughs but stops short when she sees who the joke is about. "That's not." She begins, shocked. "_Her,_ is it?" Her voice has enough poison in it to murder everyone on the street in one go. "The Mockingjay?"

Gale nods looking like he's thoroughly enjoying himself now. "Yes the Mockingjay in the flesh." If his tone wasn't so downright cold you would think he was boasting.

Byrne and the young girl next to her, too young to understand what's taking place, looks at me. Then as if I'm some contagious disease Byrne slams the window shut and draws the curtains tightly.

"Are you trying to turn the town against them?" Addalyn demands in a hiss. "They haven't met them. A third of our population is people from other districts, they won't be so biased." She scolds, continuing to lecture her husband like he's a child. "The rebellion was years ago and you _know_ how some of the older residents will react. And you _know_ Byrne's brother was killed. Stop trying to turn the neighbours against our guests."

Gale mutters darkly something that sounds like "They're not our guests."

Oh right, we're in a District that practically hates my guts because they supplied Peacekeepers and I blew up the Nut, though it was Gale's idea, I always seem to get the credit. Did Gale conveniently leave that out or did Plutrach bribe Gale's boss enough that it wouldn't matter? I guess he would've made friends over the years. Gale is a hard worker and you have to respect that.

"Sorry." Addalyn begins. "Byrne's entire family was killed in the explosion during the rebellion. I'd love to say that the entire District would welcome you but two thirds of our population are from before the rebellion and well a lot of them lost family during that time. So because you're the Mockingjay the feel they can push the blame to you."

"Was." I say putting immediate emphasis on the past tense. I feel a strong urge to tell her. "I'm not anymore. I gave that up." I can't tell her it's too hard, too difficult. Knowing that your actions could end hundreds of lives. Knowing that every little action affects thousands, it's nothing short of terrifying. I know I should be able to let go of that, but it sticks like glue. Like every other bad memory. The pleasant ones wash away like dust in the rain but the bad ones stick like mud.

"Told you Addie." Gale retorts smugly.

As we walk, baking in the blistering sun, Addalyn and Peeta somehow end up being in front of me. Which leaves me with Gale. It takes only a second to notice this and quickly lengthen my strides to catch up.

It occurs to me how hot I am. Back already sweaty, though we've hardly walked at all. Top plastering itself to my skin like wet paper. Sweat gathers around my temples, the back of my neck and I wipe it away with a careless flick of my hand. Sweat doesn't mean much. I doubt it grosses Gale out anyway. We could both work up quite a sweat when hunting during the summer months.

I regret my foolish decision of clothes. Really, it was shortsighted of me. I should have listened to Addalyn, but my stubborn determination that she would be wrong won out. I want to ask for a water bottle, a nice ice cold one to put against my forehead, but somehow that would feel like admitting she was right. Which would give Gale satisfaction. And I refuse to let that happen.

The town passes by in corners and hills, winding twisting narrow streets. It's not a very long walk but it feels like the walk has been doubled, or even tripled, when I compare to how long it felt last night. Maybe that's only because at least then I had someone to talk to and I wasn't dying from the heat.

I take out my braid and snap my hair into a ponytail to keep my hair off my neck. To offer some relief from my sweaty neck. Less than a foot in front of me Addalyn and Peeta are still chatting away amiably, obviously they're becoming fast friends and I can see why. They're both so hard to hate. So likable, so charming. The exact opposite of Gale and I. We're both so filled with hatred.

So while they're talking away like they've been friends for years, I'm stuck feeling awkward and angry. I could try and squeeze my way in between the two but then what? Act like I'm happy and normal? I'm no actress. Everyone knows that. Peeta was the only one who held up our Star-crossed lover act, over the years. While I just contributed half-heartedly with a few genuine acts of love. Until it grew to something real. I was more sidetracked with keeping us alive and how to get out the mess he'd created, not realizing that the act was the only thing that actually kept us alive. My arrows could only do so much.

I'm spared somewhat when little Alexandreus comes bouncing up from behind and jumps on my back. Apart from my scream and my reaction to punch the kid it comes as a relief. He's light but sturdy with ridiculously long legs. As I look behind me, I get my first real glimpse of him. Same soft face shape, straight nose, large blue eyes and winning smile as his mother. His blonde hair isn't as light as I had previously thought. It's definitely his mother's brand of blonde now but it's darkening in some areas to a dirty brown. He gives off the distinct, intense aura as Gale but also has the charming, sweet personality that he could only have inherited from his mother.

"Hi," He says sweetly, grinning at me, revealing a row of white straight teeth. Already confirming my suspicions of being sweet. I almost wish he wasn't. Those kinds of kids are the worst, the needy ones. Or needier then the already needy kids. Posy is the only kid I can really stand. And I barely ever see her but those couple hours with her are enough for the week.

My first reaction is to shake him off, but then I notice something else. His resemblance to my sister. The blonde hair, blue eyes, innocent look and good-natured, selfless demeanor. Immediately I look away to Peeta's back. Trying to blink away the sudden surge of emotion. I wonder if he would run out into battle at the tender age of fourteen and try to save the enemies children?

Because of my previous scream of surprise Peeta is now looking at me, to make sure I'm OK. He sees my helpless look and gives an encouraging nod. Leaving me to blonde shark on my back. Of course. He wants kids and I don't. So Alexandreus had to attack the one person opposed to children. Did Gale put him up to this for a laugh?

This child is livable at least. Or from what I know.

I force the grimace from my face and replace it with a forced smile. "Hi."

He gives a light tug on my hair. "You have nice hair." He blurts, and then he blushes. "You're pretty."

I stifle a snort of laughter and look at the only plausible culprits. Peeta and Addalyn. But both of them are still chatting away, blatantly ignoring me.

I have no idea how to respond to that when I know I look like an absolute train wreck with haunted shadows under my eyes. I haven't looked well in a very long time. Better than before but definitely not, _pretty, _to anyone but Peeta.

Then just to surprise me even more, Alexandreus tightens his hold around my neck, "Should I get down?" He asks in a tone that would make it impossible to say no to.

"It's fine." I reply before seriously thinking it through.

Alexandreus immediately makes him comfortable. Adjusting his weight so it's easier for me, and rests his head in the crook of my neck.

"You're sweaty." He notes absently.

If this is what mother hood is like, I don't want it. Nothing to do with it. I won't be able to stand it.

He's not heavy really, sturdy but not heavy. Well nothing that I can't manage.

"Almost there!" Addalyn says cheerfully after another fifteen minutes. "Another two minutes!"

She's quite right. How amazing, she has everything, including our schedule, down to the minute. She reminds me of Effie Trinket more and more. Hopefully this won't be a guided down to the minute four day stay. I'll snap her neck in half.

The market is an outdoor kind of farmers' market with open air, maybe fifty stands, most with white coverings to shade the vendor's heads from the sun. It reminds me of the markets at home. They started about two years back in 12, for people to display their artistic talents and make money while doing it. Some dance, some sing on the little stage assembled in the centre. It's usually packed with kids and Peeta always drags me down there, every Sunday unless I have a good reason; like we're running out of rabbit. I usually make that an excuse not to go. It's loud and crowded here and I immediately hate it.

"You can get the _best_ fruit and vegetables here." Addalyn explains as she winds her way through the stalls, stopping occasionally to look at something every now and again.

I look back at Gale, who's ambling slowly behind us, getting swept up in the sea of people, and raise an eyebrow at him. Why buy fruit and vegetables when you hunt and gather? Or has he given that up? I can't see that happening. It was a way to survive back then and it's not something you easily give up and let go.

"Whatever I can't get hunting of course." He mutters, seemingly to himself, as if I don't exist. Or he didn't see me.

With a quiet reservation I watch as Addalyn stocks up on essentials. She hands over cash like it's no big deal. Like there's tons of it left. I judge the prices because I don't get out much in 12, or I try my hardest not to. It's amazing, what I could never afford when I was sixteen has become the norm for the prices now.

A few tables down I can hear Peeta's laugh of amusement.

"Katniss look at this."

A few curious heads turn my way, some glare while others look mildly interested.

"Don't call my name out." I grumble making my way towards him. "People stare here. It's not home. People hate me here, have reason to."

Peeta just shakes his head smiling in disbelief. "Look at this." He reveals a small, handcrafted bird that looks suspiciously like a Mockingjay only this one has gems, real or fake I can't tell, in assorted colours. Red blends into amber, to yellow, to diamond. To create a Mockingjay that looks like it's engulfed in flames. It's pretty but it causes my stomach to churn and knot.

"I guess it was only a matter of time." I say unemotionally.

He gives me a swift kiss which causes Alexandreus to moan and look away. "Mockingjay on fire."

"I think it's agreeable that we've had enough fire." I remind him.

"Quite true." He agrees.

"Goodbye, Mockingjay." The old man selling the jewelry calls after us, making everyone within a five food radius turn their heads again. I just duck my head and try to disappear. I don't want to deal with this again.

"Why am I the only one who got a name?" I hiss angrily.

We've lost Gale and Addalyn but it can't be too difficult to find the pair. We weave through the crowd and find Gale talking to a tall sandy-haired man.

Before he can see us, I grab Peeta and tow him the other way.

"You're being ridiculous." He tells me, guiding me gently back towards Gale.

"I'm not being ridiculous because it's Gale! I'm being _ridiculous_ because I don't want to be thought of as the Mockingjay again. I'm not the stupid Mockingjay. And I'm not being _ridiculous_!"

"You can't escape being the Mockingjay."

"I can in 12!" I retort furiously.

"That's because they had to put up with both of us." He says neutrally, calming me down and ending the conversation, in a way that even I can't find a comeback. Because it's true. We almost never truly fight.

Gale catches sight of us and sighs. He's not being as cold as he was yesterday, he's acting tolerable, no doubt under orders from his wife. Instead now he just pretends we don't exist when he can manage.

"Fletch, I'd like you to meet-" He begins.

"Katniss and Peeta." Says the sandy haired man.

Gale raises his eyebrows. "Yeah those two. Catn-Katniss and Peeta this is Fletch, a co-worker."

I don't miss the slipup Gale made. For a moment it sounded almost as if he were about to say Catnip.

"Pleasure to meet you." Peeta says shaking Fletch's hand.

"The pleasure is all mine. We didn't get big celebrities like you back in District 10 during the rebellion."

Balancing Alexandreus carefully on my back, I spare a hand and offer it to Fletch, who takes it and smiles. I pray that Alexandreus doesn't fall because the only thing propping him up is a single hand and his hands roped at my neck. If he lets go gravity will win. I don't need another reason for Gale to glare at me.

The four of us stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to say. The music from the band plays gently in the background. The music here isn't anything like the music back home where it consists of rigorous dancing. It sounds full of sorrow. Even Peeta can't seem to find anything witty.

At long last Fletch manages a smile and ruffles Alexandreus's hair, which causes him to laugh and swat him away. I sway dangerously on the spot; afraid for a split second I'm going to drop Alexandreus.

A weight is lifted from my shoulders and I try not to sigh in relief. Turning to see my savior I see Gale has lifted his son up by the armpits and hoisted him onto his shoulders, so they create a tower. The look on Gale's face makes it clear that he doesn't trust me with his son any longer. The least he's done until now is tolerate it.

For some reason this rubs me the wrong way. Despite having just admitted it to myself, having Gale take him away like I'm no longer capable irritates me. I can handle a kid just as well as he can. The need to prove myself is overwhelming.

"Can you see mommy?" Gale asks looking up at Alexandreus with a tiny smile that I've never seen on his face before. It was the same type of smile my father used to give me. A fatherly smile reserved only for his child.

Alexandreus, overyjoyed by the task at hand, leans forward, craning his neck. He tugs on a tuft of hair and forces Gale to move to the right. This continues until Gale has almost pulled a three sixty when after long last Alexandreus exclaims. "Over there!" He points a chubby child finger in front of him.

"Mommy! I'm over here!" He exclaims, waving his hands manically in the air.

Fletch chuckles and bids us goodbye before turning away and saying something to Gale about seeing him when Gale came back to work.

Over the sea of the crowd, all of them seeming to be conversing something to each other, I can hear Addalyn's tinkling laugh of delight as she catches sight of her son beckoning her over to us like a siren singing.

"Oh you're so adorable!" Addalyn exclaims, beaming as Alexandreus begins to scale down his father like one of the monkeys in the arena. Easily, scaling down his father's body. Bearing his white teeth proudly, he begins to jump up and down in excitement.

"Does this mean we can leave now?" He asks still bouncing around.

"Yes."

Alexandreus lets out a sigh of exaggerated relief. "Finally. The market is no fun." He complains.

Peeta nudges me and smiles, hoping at that moment I'll give in.

I shake my head, thinking; _it's going to take a lot more than that to make me change my mind Peeta._

Gale nudges his son playfully and spins him around. "Don't look so blue. This is where I met your mother."

Gale exchanges a long look with Addalyn both of their faces sober with grief.

"Let's not think of those miserable times." Addalyn whispers quietly. Then with forced brightness she says. "Let's move on shall we?"

Alexandreus who seems completely oblivious to his parent's sudden grief only notices the bright tone, no matter how forced it was. He continues to bounce up and down like a madman. His innocence is remarkably cute.

Obviously there's some long, back story behind this but Peeta and I don't question her because her great blue eyes seem to be quavering with the effort not to cry. Obviously there is a back story behind this all. I am not genuinely interested. It's funny actually not that I'm sadistic and enjoying myself that Addalyn looks devastated. More irony. Most people would say the day they met their husband or wife would be the best day of their life not "miserable." Not that I can say much as the day I met Peeta I was on death's doorstep. Then there was the Reaping. Not exactly something you want to brag about to your friends later.

With the crowd now behind us I feel like I can finally breathe properly again. I felt like I was suffocating from all the people invading my personal space. I hate being touched by anyone.

"How far is it to the park?" Peeta asks.

"Maybe fifteen minutes before I was pregnant so maybe twenty now. We walk everywhere."

"Don't see a point in any other transportation. The town isn't that big." Gale points out.

"What's the population size?" I ask, directing the question more to Addalyn.

"Maybe twelve thousand before the rebellion. Maybe nine thousand now. I didn't pay attention to that stuff in school. I didn't need to; my dad had a job for the city. I just asked him if I wanted to know, which I almost never did." Addalyn explains. "Why how big is 12?"

Peeta and I calculate for a moment. We had a little over six thousand before the rebellion. Some of us still live in 13 and we're not exactly a hot spot for other people to want to move there. "I dunno, maybe four or five?"

Addalyn it seems got the best of everything. Untouched by the Reaping, and the Rebellion. Her parents well off, so very little tessarae, if any at all in her life. Well fed all her life by the looks of it, not that she's got weight to spare, she's tiny even in her pregnancy but she glows with the look of someone who's been healthy their whole life.

"That's so small!" Addalyn exclaims.

"Not really. I was used to it. Being the poorest District everyone turned a blind eye to us and it was easier to hunt and make a living off it." Gale says coming to defend his former home. "Of course knowing the officials helped."

"And I bet it wasn't because of your sunny personality." Addalyn says nudging his ribs and smirking up at him. Their earlier argument forgotten for the time being.

I'm so wrapped up in listening to their banter that I don't notice the little hand tugging insistently on my sleeve. "Hey, hey. Katniss." Alexandreus says breaking my trance.

I look down curiously as Alexandreus attempts to pry my fingers from Peeta. I clutch his hand tighter, not wanting, unable to release his hand. So it's to my great shock when Peeta loosens his grip on my hand and pulls it away. Bending down to look Alexandreus in the eye he smiles and asks, "What's so important there that you were trying to pry my wife from me?" If it was anyone but Peeta I would probably be disgusted with the choice of words used but with his light joking tone, smile and overall way he has with kids it sounds like nothing more than a friendly ruff.

"Nothing," Alexandreus replies with what most would call an endearing smile but I think it makes his face look like a bear. A really demented one.

Peeta's grin widens and in the next second Alexandreus is screeching in surprise as Peeta tosses him onto his back.

The screeching alerts Gale's keen hunters' ears and he turns, looking startled with suppressed rage, as he takes in the scene. The look in his eyes is one of revolt like it's a crime Peeta would even talk to his son.

Fury unfurls inside my chest at how unfair he's being. I want to scream at him to let this be, that we're not hurting him or anything, that I'm sorry we interrupted his life, that he needs to get over himself.

"Hey!" I snap glaring at him.

Peeta places a warning hand on my arm, asking me to calm down.

I shake him off and growl, "We're not doing anything wrong here okay?" A lie.

Addalyn who's pretty much been oblivious this entire time finally comes to life and shakes her head in pity. "Gale," she says in a quiet, soothing voice.

It's like he didn't hear her.

"Its fine Katniss, don't bother." Peeta says.

"No it's not." I say flatly.

"A lot of things aren't right Sweetheart." Gale says shortly. "This for example." He spreads his arms wide as if to gesture to everything around him when I know he's actually talking about us.

At this I want to smack him across the chest and scream awful things at him. The nickname Haymitch gave me, and still calls me, conjures up terrible memories I try so hard to block out.

"Shut up." I say at the same time Addalyn does.

It's a quiet walk to the park, all of us judging the outbursts and the tense atmosphere. I don't feel guilty. I feel better, getting some anger off my chest. Being too young to understand what's really going on, Alexandreus looks content and unconcerned, nestled on Peeta's back. He refused to get off Peeta's back. Peeta's a child magnet. Grinning Alexandreus surveys me to the point where I want to look away and hide behind a sheet of hair.

I want to scream at Gale more but this isn't really the place or time. Not this ever was an inconvenience for either of us. I'm sure if we were ever to be left alone we'd get it all out. Or would we? It's questionable, I mean we have years of hate bottled up inside us, things we'd love to say but never have. I wonder if he remembers the time he almost succeeded in breaking my leg. At the time it didn't seem like such a big deal to me, but after years and years of resentment and fury, it feels unforgivable.

The park Addalyn takes us to is lush and green, the grass still green and thriving despite the heat. Trees dotted sparsely throughout the park offer shade and protection from the sun. Families with picnic baskets decorate the field like multicolour, moving jeweled flowers, passed out under the sun or dancing around. In the distance I can just make out the silver gleam of the barbed fence separating the District from the forest. A few trees scattered carelessly around the fence. To the left a stream gushes past in the distance, gurgling like windchimes.

Addalyn marches determinedly to a bend in the river and settles underneath a sweeping willow tree whose branches dip into the fast moving river. It must come from the mountain. In all ways it's an ideal spot. Far away enough to not be overheard by the other families unless they had keen hearing, close to the river and under a tree. Good, I don't care much for more District 2 families gawking at me.

I long ago pushed the thought of ditching Addalyn and Gale and taking Peeta and leaving. We kind of have reservations on a train three days from now and it would be costly to switch it to tonight. Pushing the date back would be easier if there was another reservation. If Gale kicks out us tonight, now very likely given my recent snapping, we'll have to find some family who'll take us in. If worse comes to worse Peeta and I would camp out in the streets or in the woods. It's been a long time since I've had to sleep in the woods. It wouldn't be unwelcome in my opinion. I miss it. Would I be able to bribe Addalyn to take food out to us if worse came to worse? Doubt I would even have to bribe her. She'd deliver on it on a silver platter for us.

"This place seems as good as any." Addalyn says pleasantly as she drops carefully to her knees, her summer dress billowing about her. "Sit down." It's not a request but a sharp command.

I drop to my knees finding the grass surprisingly springy and damp, dragging Peeta with me. I fall onto my back, the grass creating a nice pillow.

The lyrics I sang to Rue come back for an unknown reason.

_Deep in the meadow, under a willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow._

Alexandreus clambers off Peeta's back and sits next to his mother excitedly as she unwraps her wicker basket of food.

I sit up trying to get the lyrics out of my head but they echo around. Bouncing around the cage of my mind, jumbling up all of my other thoughts.

"Alex, baby, can you pass Katniss and Peeta an apple each?" Addalyn asks holding open a tweed bag filled with shiny red apples.

"Sure mommy." Alexandreus replies with a boyish grin. He plunges his arm into the bag, so far down that his shoulder is barely visible. He pulls out an armful and lays them out on the grass in a neat row. He counts each of them carefully, mumbling to himself as he does. "Six, eight, no seven. Seven."

"Okay now we need two." Addalyn encourages.

Alexandreus sits there for a moment, mouth twisted up in a corner, tongue poking out. Eyebrows knitted. I have to stifle a laugh because it's the exact look of concentration Gale wears when he concentrates.

His tiny hands pass over the apples. He stops at the second one, then pauses and puts it on the third. He looks at his mother for confirmation, searching her face for some sign of praise.

Addalyn shakes her head and Alexandreus's eyebrows furrow deeper. His hand wavers over the fourth apple before he swipes two apples off the ground passes it to us.

The apples fall short and roll on the grass until they bounce on my knee. I roll one to Peeta and rub the other on the hem of my shirt before taking off a chunk.

Addalyn is still teaching Alexandreus how to do math. "Okay we need three more. You, daddy and I."

"I'm good Alex." Gale replies, leaning against the trunk of the willow. He's a little farther away from the four of us to be considered part of the conversation but that's how we wants it obviously.

"Fine minus one from three and you have?"

"Two?"

"Yes! Now can you grab two apples for us?"

"Sure." And despite having just grabbed two apples, Alexandreus surveys the apples left.

I never have had much patience watching kids struggle through work, especially if I know the answer. "Just gr-"

My sentence is cut off as Peeta clamps a hand over my mouth and gives me a stern look. I bite down on his hand, letting him know plainly, that I don't approve of someone covering my mouth. I've had nightmares of dying this way. Unable to breathe as Gale cuts off my airways.

Alexandreus looks up at me curiously before turning his attention back to the apples. He looks at them for another mere two seconds before rolling one to his mom.

Gale leans forward and helps Alexandreus put the apples back. Each one making a dull thud as they smack against the others. Counting as they fall.

I look at Peeta pointedly, who still has his hand clamped firmly over my mouth. He doesn't notice.

"Pweeta, muh, wouh." I mumble.

"Sorry," Peeta says and his hand slides down my face until it finds my hand and captures it.

"Too bad you moved your hand." Gale begins conversationally, avoiding the use of Peeta's name. But it would be hard to notice who he's speaking to. The tone he uses is laced with poison beneath the politeness. "Everyone likes Katniss better when her mouth is shut."

I glare at him through narrowed eyes. Planning revenge for that new jab. It doesn't hurt, his words have long stopped hurting me, they roll off my back.

Lunch is also a quiet affair. Aside from polite chatter, mostly supplied by everyone but Gale and I, it's quiet. I'm not as socially adept as Peeta. I continuously glare at Gale throughout lunch but he's doing a surprisingly good job of ignoring me. He picks absently at an orange, eating about a quarter of it and giving the rest of it to his wife. Having eaten hardly any breakfast, I wolf down the food set out in front of us, finishing off two apples and a sandwich and a half.

From her spot on the ground Addalyn's voice rises up, her voice so quiet it's hard to hear over the rush of the stream. "Anyone care to go for a walk?"

"Sure." Peeta replies pushing himself into a sitting position. He lets go of my hand, stands up and brushes grass off his pants. He hands me a little grass ring with a little crooked smile. "Coming Katniss?" He asks.

"I'm good." I drawl lazily slipping the woven grass onto my pinkie.

"Gale?" Addalyn asks.

"I'll stay." Gale says immediately.

"Fine." I push my head up enough to watch as Addalyn attempts to pull herself up. She fails completely. She probably can't even touch her feet around her stomach. It's easy to see that it's easier to lie down then it is to get up.

Peeta offers her a hand and carefully pulls her to her feet.

"Thanks." She says. "We won't be gone too long."

Peeta and Addalyn walk along the river. And after a few minutes Alexandreus picks himself up and sprints after them clumsily. Leaving me alone with Gale for the first time.

We survey each other for a moment, each of us searching for something in the other's eyes. All I can find is Gale's icy gray hardness. At the same moment we look away in opposite directions.

I watch Peeta's retreating back and am rewarded with a memory A fuzzy one, because it's not terrifying by clear enough. Back when he was still hijacked and insane. Finnick was alive at the time. Peeta had openly declared his distrust and warned Finnick he might just steal Annie away from him. I'm not sure why my mind rewards me with that memory but I ponder it.

Perhaps it's the closeness, the immediate friendship, that's been forged between Addalyn and Peeta that brought it up. Addalyn looks nothing like Annie but Peeta is relatively unchanged physically. Other than a newly broken nose. His mind is more stable now. I shake the memory because really it doesn't belong with what's happening.

It takes a moment before my mind processes one thing and one thing that matters. They're out of earshot.

I flip around to find Gale still looking up the trees, seemingly absorbed.

Shrieking at Gale, incoherently, I kick him, jabbing him in the calf. Which makes a satisfying sound at impact.

Before I have time to retract my leg Gale grabs my ankle and holds my foot in the most awkward angle he can think of. My foot pointing downward. Gently and slowly he continues to twist it until I want to scream.

I bite down on my lip until blood explodes in my mouth, filling it with its sticky sweetness.

I fling myself forward and my nails rake and claw at his hand, hoping to draw blood but all I leave is angry red lines.

"How-dare-you!" I manage furiously, gasping and panting.

"How dare I what?" He asks in an infuriating calm voice.

The stupid thing is, after all that. I can't think of anything. Nothing. You can't tell someone off for sneering.

"You had no right to come here!" He growls. "I was happy!" He twists my ankle to a sickening angle.

I involuntarily cry out in pain, hoping he'll stop. He'll break my ankle.

To my utter surprise he does. He sneers at me, before picking himself up and walking away. "Go home. I never want to see your face again. Stay away from my family." He tosses over his shoulder.

I collapse backward, the pain in my ankle receding. I watch his back as he breaks into a run to find Addalyn.

The canopy of leaves above me look like green clouds. The tune comes back to me along with Gale's words. _I was happy._ _I was happy._ I shake my head, trying my hardest not to hear them. Because to do so means accepting the fact that Gale has a life outside me now. If only I could agree with him.

**I didn't intentionally plan for the lyrics to pop up the way they did and I never intended for the park to actually sound like that line but I laughed aloud when I realized what I'd done.**

**Review please? **

**Song: Kiss with a Fist (Florence + The Machine)**

**Anddddddd…. *drum roll* I have a new Hunger Games Fanfiction coming out tomorrow! I played that up quite a bit didn't I? Just assuming you'd all want to read it when you might not. Nonetheless it's there for those of you who do.**


	10. First Apology

**Believe it or not I have a valid excuse for not posting. I haven't had internet since I last posted! A plus though is I got a head start on the next chapter. (It's pretty much finished)**

**And I know there isn't much arguing but it's building…**

"Katniss are you limping?" Peeta asks sounding unnecessarily alarmed, looking down at my feet, which are shuffling along the blistering pavement at their own pace.

"No," I lie defiantly. "I'm just really hot and the boots were a dumb idea." I finish furiously, crossing my sweaty arms across my chest. I make a point to walk properly even though pain shoots up my leg with every step.

Gale's back quakes with silent snickers which no one else seems to notice but me. Or maybe I'm just imagining the entire thing. It seems doubtful but I want to kick him in the shin either way.

Just to confirm my suspicions I glance at Addalyn who's rummaging in her basket for something. Alexandreus is a kid so he wouldn't notice much unless it involved something exciting. And Peeta is still staring at me with unease.

Alexandreus who just seconds ago was content with bouncing alongside Peeta, much to Gale's distaste, has bounded forward and leapt onto his father's back. Clawing at Gale's backside to find a hold.

Gale swings Alexandreus up onto his shoulders and grabs his son's feet tightly. "Give a little notice next time. Your mom would kill me if you fell on your face."

Addalyn, who may be one the most prepared people I've ever had the pleasure and displeasure of meeting, tosses me a silver container of water from her wicker basket, hiding a small smile. She doesn't make a snide comment, to my relief, about my stupidity of the heat.

"Take off your shoes?" Peeta offers gently.

I nearly snap at him, unjustly it would be good to add, that if I were to take my shoes off and walk barefoot down the lane I'd burn the soles of my feet. "I don't much fancy searing the skin off my feet." I say as coolly as I can manage.

"Good point." Peeta says levelly, ignoring the edge, the temper, bubbling in my manner. "I could always carry you."

I chug back the water greedily, wiping my mouth with the cuff of my sleeve when I'm done. Leaning forward I ease the bottle into the dark folds of the basket. Hearing the dull _thunk_ that confirms the bottle hit something, the leftover apples. "I think I'll live." I say aiming for tranquility and missing it by miles.

"Mommy?" Alexandreus says, charmingly. "Can you carry me? I'm tired." For good measure he yawns, rubs his eyes and looks at her pleadingly with his big blue eyes.

"Um…" Addalyn begins looking uncomfortable with saying no to her son. "I would…Aren't you comfortable enough where you are?"

Alexandreus shakes his head vigorously. "No."

"Here big guy," Gale bends down, allowing Alexandreus to scramble off him. Then he opens his arms in welcome.

It takes only a second for Alexandreus to debate. His young mind trying to shift through the options. Then he launches himself into Gale so hard that Gale rocks backward on his heels precariously.

Gale scoops him up effortlessly in his arms, glancing down to make sure his son is safe and secure. There's no need to worry, Alexandreus has his arms woven so firmly around Gale's neck an earthquake couldn't shake him off.

I wonder if Gales arms are like I remember them, warm, inviting and sheltering when they shouldn't have been because no one else's arms were like that when my world was crashing around me. Or are they cold and hard now from years of resentment? I almost hope they're like I remember them for Alexandreus's and Addalyn's sake, not mine. Never mine. That's forbidden of course.

Within seconds Alexandreus's eyes are clamped shut tight against the blazing, bleeding sun. Does he have nightmares? Are his nightmares terrifying the way mine are? I doubt they are too horrific, when in comparison to mine. His are probably like mine where when I was much, much younger. When I still had my father to comfort me after I returned to harsh reality, which at the time, was no better than my dreams. Just monsters under the beds. Nothing serious. Harmless, really when you see the gruesome world with older eyes.

Peeta pulls me in close and gives me a sweet, unexpected, kiss. Bewildered I hesitate before returning the gesture. I don't escape after leaning away despite the heat from the dying day the clings to the air. It promises for a hot night. He keeps me very close, my body melding into his.

Usually things like this are out of the question. Why the sudden affection? Peeta is always more willing to display affection so really it's not that surprising but we've barely touched since arriving here. Looking for an answer I search in his eyes. They look hazy, almost vacant but aware enough for a moment to explain what's happening. That right, now I'm a lifeline. The only thing tying him to the Earth and his sanity.

I squirm away, trying to break away to a safer distance. Being close to him with the possibility of an episode near is never safe. But he pulls me back with an iron grip, his fingers tight around my upper arm. His milky eyes pleading. "Please." He says looking at me desperately. "It'll pass in a moment."

Trying to calm my suddenly shattered nerves I breathe in deeply. "OK."

"Peeta trying to kill himself again?" Gale says insensitively over his shoulder. "Or Katniss?"

"Gale I swear I will…" Addalyn says in a cutting tone. "Don't upset a pregnant women." She finishes. "And you are this close." She holds up a fine strand of hair that glints and glitters in the dying day. "To crossing that very thin line."

It appears Gale's not the only one who enjoys making threats. Addalyn appears quite skillful in that department. You couldn't marry Gale without picking up a few things.

The only reply she gets is a murderous glare.

How can she stand to live with him? Put up with him all these years? I wonder how messed up she would have to be to even consider living with him. She must be as messed up as Gale is or more. The very idea makes me feel sick.

The grip on my wrist relaxes and I can feel the pent up blood racing to reach the numb fingers, surging under my skin. My fingers pulse painfully. Peeta has returned to our world, didn't hear the spiteful comment that spewed poisonously from Gale's mouth.

While, clammy and pale Peeta manages a wobbly smile and satisfaction clear in his voice says "I fought it off this time."

This is such a milestone for me, for us, that it deserves some kind of celebration or reward. Not here, not now but we'll save it for home. Where people will actually care.

I hold tight to his middle, grinning up at him like a little girl. I feel proud of him. Like an over nurturing mother. Right now I doubt he would care, it's not like his mother wanted him in the first place.

"Your family would be proud." I tell him quietly. "I think even your mother would be happy for you."

"That's saying something." He says shakily.

How I've changed in these past months is completely fascinating and baffling to me. No longer as afraid of love as I once was. I still am in a lot of aspects but I've let someone in and that's enough of a milestone for me. If that's all I achieve of this life that's enough. Only one person was able to gain any affection from me and that was Prim whom I've lost. We won, but lost her along the way. The entire reason I went through everything.

The sheer horrible irony hits me, full force. I went in the Games the first time to save Prim from certain death and in the end she died anyway. Much sooner than she should've. So in the end it was all for nothing. All I did was prolong her life for a couple years. And in the end what's a couple of years when you have another forty to look forward to? In the end it would've been almost easier on all of us if she had just died in the Games. No I don't believe that either.

Some people tell me it wasn't for nothing. I freed Panem from our oppressors and made sure 'our children' have a Hunger Game free life but it doesn't matter to me. I only did it all for Prim and she's not even here to celebrate it. I was the face of the Rebellion because when she was seven she told me she wanted a family one day but was terrified of what could happen to them. That stuck with me for a long time. She was the only reason I could think of to continue my fight when everything was hopeless.

In the end I was the reason she died. She wanted to help and there I was trying to keep her safe. Coin killed her and broke me. A broken Mockingjay without wings, which was her plan all along. When Peeta failed to kill me she did the next best thing.

"Home sweet home." Addalyn says loudly as she swings open the front door.

"Smells like vanilla." Gale comments dropping the wicker basket to the floor and kicking off his shoes. He helps Alexandreus wriggle out of his toes out of his boots and tosses them next to the pile of shoes by the front door.

"I was going to bake some cookies later." Addalyn says, easing out of her light sweater. "I took out the vanilla earlier."

"Like you don't make enough stupid cookies anyways." Gale mutters so that Addalyn can't possibly hear.

I wrestle my shoes off and toss them by the others. My ankle feels restored, finally being free from the tight confines of my boot. I cautiously look down and find it is too swelled up. Yet. Gale probably sprained it but I plan on doing nothing about it while I'm here. It'll heal on its own. Complaining about it and grabbing some ice would only give him satisfaction, knowing that he harmed me in some way.

"Put your shoes outside if they're muddy. I'll hose them off after." Gale eyes our shoes critically and finding them spotless, shrugs. He releases Alexandreus who goes nuts and runs around in hyper circles while Gale picks up the shoes he just dropped and sets them outside. He catches me looking cautiously at my ankle and his face twists into something of a cross between regret and delight.

"Dinner will be a while, sorry you guys. I can set out a snack if you want?" Addalyn calls, through the ruckus of clanging pots and slamming cupboard doors, from the kitchen as we congregate in the living room.

Tucking my feet beside me I lean into Peeta. My ankle is sore but I mask the pain. I don't want the questions from Peeta. He'll insist on seeing a doctor and that I lay low for a couple of days. I despise doing nothing all day. I like feeling productive.

The silence is awkward, none of us saying anything. The TV sits silently in the corner, untouched. Alexandreus plays silently behind me in the corner next to the kitchen. They've set up a little space just for him, filled with books and other toys. I honestly can't even guess what his age is.

"So Gale how is work?" Peeta asks boldly. It's clear he thinks this is all foolish and ridiculous. He'll make conversation whether we want to or not. He doesn't understand why neither of us is making an effort so he's making one for us.

Gale turns his head looking completely bewildered. Caught off guard for once he says. "Good, I guess. I'm off for a couple weeks. Because of Addalyn." It's the most I've ever heard him say directed towards us that isn't snide or rude. "Are you two working?"

"I am but Katniss isn't. Other than some sporadic part time work at the bakery." Peeta says looking almost as surprised as Gale did at how receptive he's acting. It won't last long though. The surprise will wear off and Gale will go back to how he was before.

I can see it set in now. Gale's face closes off, becoming reserved. But not before I catch the look of resentment as it flashes across his face as he realizes he's contributed to a conversation he doesn't support.

"Oh. How nice." Gale says, the surprise from the attack wearing off. He can't ignore a direct question but he can get away with clipped answers.

With a loud clanging from the kitchen Addalyn sweeps into the living room, looking over her shoulder, "That would be the rice." She says almost tripping over a stray toy. The platter she's holding jerks upward but she catches herself and the tray just in time.

"Alex you'll have to pick that up." She says in a calm tone, never once betraying a hint of a scolding.

Alexandreus looks up in alarm and scrambles forward to retrieve the children book left lying carelessly on the floor.

"Sorry mommy." He says in that annoyingly adorable voice. "Daddy was reading to me last night and we left it there."

"I wasn't sure what to give you guys but I thought this would do the trick. A little bit of everything." Addalyn says giving no notice that Alexandreus spoke other than to give him a reassuring smile. She places the large silver tray on the low table in front of us, displaying the fruit, vegetables, cookies and crackers, now set out haphazardly from the stumble. She grabs a slice of orange and sticks a spoon in a strange bowl of red seeds I've never seen before.

The seeds are the colour of blood but look oddly translucent. They smell almost citrusy.

"How long for dinner?" Gale asks biting into a cracker and looking up expectantly.

"I don't know." Addalyn runs her fingers through her blonde hair, mussing it up.

"I'll help." He says forcefully in a tone that begs her not to say no.

"No." She says firmly. "Stay with the guests."

"Well then I'll cook. You need to rest." I doubt that's his actual motivation. It's a good excuse but that's all it is; an excuse to avoid conversation.

Addayln smirks. "I don't like the idea of you burning our food. We have guests. Entertain them!"

"That was one time." He snarls.

"Mommy I moved the book." Alexandreus informs Addalyn again, evidently not satisfied with the gratitude he received before.

"Well now I'm hurt." I say feigning a casual tone, my words tumbling over Alexandreus's, drowning him out. "What you don't want to talk to us? We came all the way out here to talk to you." I'm torturing him and I love it. I finally have his hands bound tight.

"Mommy! I did what you asked me to!" Alexandreus says being to grow impatient from lack of attention. Why do kids need so much attention?

"Exactly Gale." Addalyn smirks. Finally becoming aware of her sons growing irritation she smiles and pats Alexandreus's head like he's an oversized pet. "Thanks honey."

Alexandreus stares after her, beaming from ear to ear, finally pleased with the results of his effort.

"That is a new all time low." Gale hisses as soon as Addalyn has disappeared into the kitchen.

"What?" I say feigning shock.

"The fact that you have to make underhanded remarks in front of my wife because you know I can't do anything."

"Well it's the truth. We came all this way to see you." Peeta says in a measured voice, taking in the conversation, the tension filling the room like a balloon.

It's quiet for a moment then finally Peeta once again breaks the silence. "What are the red seeds?"

"Pomegranate. We never got any in 12 before. Well if we did they were expensive. Although I'm sure some merchants' families got their hands on them." Gale's voice implies that he figures Peeta's just purposefully acting surprised. Peeta's family lived off stale bread their entire life which somehow feels even more depressing then what I used to live off.

"I don't think so. Even when I had the money I never found these fruits in the market." I counter.

I stay away from the pomegranate but help myself to the fruit slices laid out in a riot of colours.

"So Gale. What do you do for work?" I ask.

"I sit in an office all day wearing a suit and talk about something I barely understand. Is _that _good enough for you?" Gale asks in a clipped voice, implying that I've been hammering at him for hours. He sure exceeds in making people feel unwelcome.

Who would even think about hiring him to work on television? I can't see him having the personality to pull it off. Despite his 'camera ready face.' I suppose he can be charming when he needs to be.

I take a sip of my water, peering at Gale over the rim of my glass, trying to dissect the reason why he would be on TV, as if just looking at him will reveal the answer. I'm not sure what to say to his clipped response. Great? Interesting? A 'Good for you'? That would be pointless, we both know it would be a lie.

It's a very one-sided conversation. We're the ones asking the questions and forcing the conversation and he does nothing but answer. I didn't expect much from Gale in the beginning but even this seems to be a new low for him. And apparently I've hit a new all-time low too.

Eventually I give up, realizing that it's a vain, fruitless effort, and drop out of the conversation. Peeta however continues attempting at making small talk. Forcing, bit by bit, to pry civility out of Gale. In the end he's really just talking to himself.

"Have you been near the new school?"

No reply from Gale, but it doesn't faze Peeta in the slightest.

"It's actually pretty nice. They added a courtyard with lots of flowers and some tables for the kids when the weather is nice." Peeta says, stubborn as ever. Unable to understand why Gale insists on being disrespectful towards his guests. I can accept it better, maybe because I would do the same to some degree.

"How would you know?" Gale demands suddenly as Peeta begins his new attempt at conversation. "Do you have kids?" He looks at my abdomen intensely, as if trying to decide that I've had kids or I've just put on weight.

Looking taken aback Peeta begins in an almost wistful voice, "We've only been married a few months and Katniss is still opposed to the idea. No sometimes I deliver fresh bread to the school." The last part is a lie and I can see Gale raise his eyebrow slightly. We've walked Hazelle's kids to the school a handful of times when she's been busy.

I silently rise from the couch, slamming my water down onto the table so hard it sloshes over the wood. I don't apologize; barely even acknowledge it other than to meet Gale's eyes pointedly with a light sneer. "I'll be in the kitchen." I say brusquely walking onto the linoleum. The cold floors leaching the warmth from my socked feet in seconds. I make sure I put all my weight on my sprained ankle, though it protests. I cannot limp. I can feel their eyes boring into my back as I walk away.

"Oh, hi." Addalyn flashes a smile through the cloud of steam as she dumps the water from the potatoes'. "Do you need anything?"

"A towel." Peeta says ambling in after me. "We spilt some water. It _may_ have gotten onto the carpet. I hope that's okay." Leave it to Peeta to fret over something as trivial as spilling water on the carpet. He cleans the bakery and is the only reason our house looks the way it does. The only thing I clean is game after I've shot it.

"It's fine. I've lost count all the times Alex has spilt something onto the floor. Just grab the one from the stove." She jerks her head in the general direction of the stove and curses under her breath when a potato falls into the sink, still steaming.

Peeta swipes the towel from its place, sneaking in a sly kiss as he comes up.

It takes all my restraint not to push him away. Gale has put me in a sour mood and I know I shouldn't be taking it out on Peeta, of all people.

"Are you coming back out?" Peeta asks catching my mood.

"No I'm going to lend Addalyn a hand."

Peeta chuckles. "That's a first. You never do that at home."

"Hey I kill the food." I snap.

Peeta raises his eyebrow but leaves, giving me a worried look.

"You know, I don't really need help. Everything is done. All we're waiting for is the chicken." Addalyn says leaning against the countertops and peering at me curiously.

"I thought I'd help anyway." I say lamely.

She must see the real reason behind me suddenly coming to help. Maybe she realizes that this is all too much for me to handle. How badly it's stressing me out. How defiant Gale is being and how it's affecting me. I've given up.

She sighs, "You can take out the forks and knives and set the table. They're in the drawer right beside the fridge."

I hastily yank open the creamy yellow drawer and grab a fistful of forks and knives, setting them on the countertops untidily, causing them to scatter and clatter.

"And Alex needs a dull knife. Sorry I should've said that before." She corrects her voice muffled and tinny as she removes the chicken from the stove and places it on a mat.

Holding back an irritated sigh I swipe a knife off the counter, almost slicing off a finger in the process, and jam it back in its little basket. Replacing it with the small, kid size knife right next to the others.

"Oh and I hope you don't mind but you left your pill bottle out last night and Alex loves getting into things so I put it in the cupboard with the other pills. They're in the last cupboard on the left."

I nod in confirmation and absently examine the heavy silverware on the counter. I scoop them up in my arms and walk into the adjoining dining room, setting them on the bright place mats, neatly.

"Napkins?" I ask, casting a quick glance around the room, looking for any sign of hidden napkins.

"By the silverware. In the little basket."

Once I catch sight of the gleaming silver wire basket, I feel stupid for not noticing them earlier. How could I have missed it, when it was less than a foot away?

I place the napkins in the dining room then go to retrieve my pills from where Addalyn says she's put them.

"What one is it?" I sound mystified as I peer expectantly in to the cupboard, as if waiting for my bottle to jump and dance in front of me. You'd think after taking them for so long I'd recognize the little clear bottle but amongst the other little bottles it looks identical.

"Just look and see."

I grab the first bottle and stare at the tiny print for a few seconds, not taking anything in. Finally the words meanings settle in; Anti-depressants. I drop the bottle to the counter, relieved when the cap stays on.

"Something wrong?" Addalyn asks, head shooting to look at me.

"No." I say immediately, wondering whose pills they are. Addalyn or Gale? Addalyn evidently has issues but are they bad enough for something like Anti-Depressants?

With the excuse of grabbing a loaf of bread, that's been sitting on the counter, she reaches behind me and whispers. "Look I know he can be difficult but he just doesn't know how to handle this." She took my word for it when I said nothing, whereas I would've been suspicious.

"He hates me." I hiss under my breath, watching as she thinly slices the loaf and places the bread on a plate. After rifling through a couple more bottles for my pills. I look past the kid vitamens and finally my hand closes around the white cap.

I watch her keenly for her reaction to my words, waiting to see if her face gives away any sign of confirmation but she keeps her face a smooth, clean mask that betrays nothing.

"You're free to scream at him if you want." She says, avoiding "He rants about you all the time.I would do the same."

I snort privately to myself, as if I was waiting for her OK to start dishing out everything I hate him for. I could do it anytime I want but I don't think anyone would take it well if I did it publicly. I'll have to do it in private. Just him and me.

Then she puts on her cheerful face and in a voice that sounds eerily like Effie Trinket's she chimes, "Time for dinner!"

**This was such a weird chapter to write. I had absolutely **_**no**_** idea (well I had a loose idea it just took a while to get there) where I was going with this and instead of rambling on for another nine pages like it would've ended up, I ended it here. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry, sorry, sorry, for not updating I'm horrible for that. I'll TRY to better about that.**

Unlike our quiet breakfast the table is full of life tonight. No more awkward, heavy, pauses. And even though Gale refuses to make idle chitchat I make an attempt to enjoy myself.

"Addalyn do you work?" I ask, feeling the need to make a stab at learning more about this woman. Other than the fact that she has a child and is married to Gale, is happy nearly all of the time, and is good at pretending everything is OK when it is most certainly _not._

"No. I don't actually. I did odd jobs for my dad when I was younger. But mostly I stay at home." She answers, her eyes not quite meeting mine which leads me to believe she might not be entirely truthful. But who am I to pressure her into saying different? She has every right to keep things to herself. Haven't I been?

"That's not true." Gale murmurs into his plate.

"Gale." She says sounding slightly exasperated. Her eyes fill with an unexpected wetness.

"What? There's no point in lying!" He retorts indignantly, looking at me like it's my entire fault. I'm so sick of this look that I open my mouth in rage but Addalyn cuts me off.

"What do you want me to say?" Her voice has climbed in pitch, thoroughly distressed.

"There's no shame in telling them you've worked to get by." Gale says his voice softening as he catches sight of Addalyn's tear brimming eyes. "I worked twelve hour shifts just to buy a loaf of bread at the end of each week."

I don't see a need to remind him that I helped _buy_ that loaf of bread by checking the snares every day and not taking any so he wouldn't have to trade for money.

"That's a part of my life I refuse to revisit." She exclaims in a tone that finalizes it. Knife squeals in pain against the ceramic as she drags it across to cut the chicken.

Gale sighs and actually sends a futile, apologetic glance in my direction. Like he's actually sorry that she's behaving this way. Like she's being some difficult child. Hesitantly he reaches out and pats her hand.

I catch Peeta's eye and kind of shrug to show my complete confusion of what's happening and how I don't understand at all how we've gotten here.

"Fine. I worked for a while," Addalyn mumbles into her plate, changing the subject abruptly in the next sentence. Just like that she's put the spotlight on me. I've had enough of the spotlight. "So Katniss how's your life?"

I raise an eyebrow. What an open question, loose ends all over the place. I could answer however I want and they would never know. At first I want to refuse, but my new tactic at making Gale feel as uncomfortable as possible in his own house, and if he's passing snide remarks why can't I? "Very well actually. I go hunting all the time," I lie through a faux smile, trying to remember all the lessons Effie put me through. "Of course I always stop in and see Hazelle. They're looking after the house while we're gone." A more genuine smile replaces the previous one, as I catch sight of Gale's expression. I take a bite of the chicken and watch his expression change, struggling to contort it into a pleasant smile.

Apparently Hazelle never told him about this. It's a bit of a white lie. Stretching the truth. I've been seeing her more often but not daily. Little too much to handle for me. The kids even, grown up now, still overwhelm me. I still see them as little kids. Get sucked into the illusion that the Games still exist.

"How wonderful," Addalyn says with genuine sincerity. "Although it's a little off-putting knowing that you've met his family and I haven't." I doubt the remark was intended to be as severe as Gale takes it. It certainly makes me feel better seeing the look on his face.

Everyone seems to have forgotten Alexandreus and it's only when his plate grinds the wood of the table that we look at him. "Dad, I'm done," Alexandreus says looking at Gale.

"Go put your dish by the sink," Gale says through gritted teeth.

Alexandreus now looks at his mother. His face betrays no hint of frustration that he was forgotten, quite the opposite. He looks like he can't get away fast enough and I remember what Addalyn said. "I'm going to bed," He says, taking the plate with him as he leaves.

"Already?" Gale calls after him, incredulously.

"The walk tired me out," He replies coming back and giving both his parents hugs. "Good night everyone." With a quick wave he retreats upstairs.

"Do you want me to tuck you in?" Addalyn calls after him.

When he replies he sounds close to the stairs already, "I'm good."

Addalyn smiles to herself, tenderly and you can see her thinking about her son. "Anyone want a glass of wine?"

"Yes," Gale says at once before the words are barely out of her mouth. I wasn't aware he drunk. Then again he never had the money before. Or the cause. And this certainly is a cause.

"You know I'll take one to." If I'm going to be stuck with Gale for a while this might ease the tension. Might get a few things out that need to be said. I'll follow Gale's example for once. Dangerous, but worthwhile.

Addalyn comes back with four glasses and a bottle of red wine in her fingers. As soon as Gale's glass is full he drains it in one go, throwing back the glass to catch the last droplets of the blood like liquid.

I can feel Peeta's eyes on me as I self-consciously take a sip and almost immediately want to spew it out. I never drink at home and he's probably wondering what I'm doing. The last time I remember drinking was with Haymitch and that was not a pleasant experience that I like to think of. We have a bottle of liquor sitting and gathering dust at home. A Wedding gift from Haymitch. Though I assume it's really for if he ever comes over. Then again he usually brings his own liquor if I remember correctly. It's been years since he's set foot in my home. To my knowledge. Who knows what Peeta's done when I'm out?

Addalyn stares at Gale with wide, disbelieving eyes as he pours himself another glass. She coughs in protest but otherwise says nothing, keeping her eyes on me, smiling a little like we're sharing some private joke. The smile lights up her face, making her glow.

Peeta clears his throat and peers over the rim of his glass at Gale who is starting to look a little more relaxed than before. The most relaxed I've seen him since we got here. "Alex is very cute, Gale-"

"So?" Gale cuts in, looking more and more ready to kick us out. Maybe the wine was a bad idea. I've never seen Gale drunk before, but when I pictured it in my mind when I was younger it was not a pleasant one. He's an angry drunk and I can see that starting to show. He's like Haymitch though somehow, impossibly worse. His anger fueled by the alcohol.

"Well he's your son isn't he?" Peeta says sounding confused and he's not the only one. I'm feeling quite confused myself with Gale's tone.

Whatever he was expecting for a reaction was not what he got. Addalyn's fork stops halfway to her open mouth and just hangs there while her eyes widen. Gale spews his wine an incredible distance, splattering me across the table, the red liquid getting everywhere. My face, neck, arms and top. Addalyn's fork clatters back onto the table and the contents of it fly onto my top, joining the wine.

"Oh sorry," Leaping up she reaches for a table mat, and hands it to me, her face red with embarrassment.

"It's fine, really." Looking up I can see her eyes are once again filled with tears. She needs to get a grip on herself before she shatters and can't glue herself together again. Because I know how hard it is to try. To try and piece yourself back into a working body that functions and has emotions. You need help.

Gale laughs much too loudly for it to be considered polite. The amusement sickening, "You're joking right?"

"Not really," I shoot, wiping off what I can and throwing the cloth onto the table where it sits, dirty and stained.

He still laughing but in between the hysterical giggles he spits, "He's not _my _kid. He doesn't look anything like me."

A laugh almost escapes my lips and I have to clamp my mouth shut to stop it. Silent fits of hysteria bubble up and escape through my lips until I sound like Gale. Drunk. It's almost a relief to find out. Relief to know that Gale isn't so coldhearted and would just find some other girl right away. That he didn't just marry Addalyn because of Alexandreus. That it took him time to move on and live again.

"But he's so young," Peeta objects.

"He's seven actually," Addalyn interjects, a few tracks of tears spilling over and staining her cheeks. "Almost eight. He's just small and a late developer. Barely talked at all until he was nearly four."

Gale gets up and leaves the room, apparently so appalled and insulted that he can't be in the same room as us. Beginning to get tipsy his feet fall heavily on the flooring, even on the carpet. Even tipsy, he's still more silent than Peeta.

"Gale, don't," Addalyn pleads, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.

"Why not? These morons' are obviously too dimwitted to understand." He growls from what sounds like the living room. Sounds of things being shoved aside echo from the living room. He swears as something crunches and slams something shut.

"Excuse me," I say heatedly, not caring if he's drunk or what he'll do. I'm angry enough to not care. "I don't think you're in any position to say that to us. We're guests."

"Half an hour ago you wanted to leave," Gale snaps, coming back with a photo album clutched in his shaking hands. He tosses it across the table and as it slides toward me I can't help but admire the carefully painted roses on the red cover.

Peeta looks up, "And this is?" He says with a surprising edge to his voice. Doubt he enjoyed being called a dimwit just as much as I did.

"Open it to the bookmark," Gale commands gruffly, sliding into his chair and making it squeal across the hardwood.

It seems to be Addalyn's book so I look at her before I do anything. She nods tearfully, wiping her eyes. With one final heave she stops her crying and steels herself. The nod she gives me now is more resolved and I take it as an OK.

I glance at Peeta, but open the thick book to the marked page. Curiosity burning like a candle inside me. I know I'm not the only one by the way Peeta fidgets beside me. We're both thinking the same thing; finally, answers.

"What? I just see baby photos." I say shortly, frustrated at Gale's own inability to give even us even the most simple of instructions. Does he enjoy watching me struggle and knowing that as much as I'd love to take a chunk out of him I can't?

"What? Last page than."

I turn the album over and beneath the wretched blue lining I can see a pocket, brimming with photos, all their backs to us.

Clamped together with elastic the numerous photos are heavy in my hands. My fingers pause over the elastic, wondering if I should. Surely Gale wants me to, but this seems to be Addalyn's book and therefore her choice. Flipping through the book is one thing but pictures are private. I look to her again for confirmation. She gives a small nod and I tear off the elastic and flip the pictures over.

The first picture gives me a start because the happiness in it is actually painful to look at; Addalyn and a blonde man I don't recognize fill up the frame, both of them grinning broadly at the camera. Faces shining with joy. Looking like they wouldn't be anywhere else if given the choice. So completely in love that you could never deny it.

"Alex's father." Addalyn chokes on the words like they're heavy knives. "Alexandreus senior."

"What happened to him?" Peeta asks gently as he takes the picture from me. His eyes lock with Addalyn and she sees the chance to deny it.

The picture underneath that I hold gingerly is that of Addalyn and Alexandreus senior sitting and smiling up at the camera from the couch. Her head resting on his shoulder. She looks younger, less worn down, somehow even more beautiful then she is now. Hard to believe she could ever look that healthy even living in District 2. Disgusting that the houses were in such good shape when ours were just planks of wood with a roof thrown over them.

"Died in the Rebellion. Capitol enrolled his entire family and my own." Her voice isn't one to pity, and I'm sure it's the last thing she wants.

"So he was-"

"Fighting against your cause," She finishes my sentence, her eyes holding mine and I see the apology there but I also see the fire.

"I was pregnant with Alex at the time. Born weeks after he was killed." She sighs and it's weighed down, a hundred bricks just dropped on her.

"How?" I wonder if this is going too far. Can she handle reliving that horror? I'm not sure I would tell anyone. Too much of a burden to carry.

"They wouldn't tell me. But it was in the Capitol. Near the end of it all." She chokes. "So close…"

"I'm sorry. That must've been hard for you." Peeta says sympathetically.

"It was. Everyone I was close to died. His mother and sister were the only two left after. His sister died later though."

"Sounds like Hazelle," I mumble under my breath.

Gale hears me and shoots me a nasty look.

"We were engaged and everything. He was a wonderful man."

Gale it appears has no objections to Addalyn talking about her late fiancée apparently, probably deciding its better if she gets to talk about it to help her move on. Or maybe I'm wrong. Wouldn't be the first time and it won't be the last. Then again Gale has changed so much that I feel like I barely know him anymore. Did I know him at all? I knew him. We've just all changed.

Near the end of the pictures I find one of Addalyn sitting alone under the exact willow tree we were by today. I've never seen such a devastated look documented before. How can she stand to be near that tree? How can she even manage to be in the same park? If it was me I'd burn the park down just so I wouldn't have to look at it.

She leans across the table and almost smiles as she sees what picture I have. "Some guy was taking pictures in the park and I ruined his shot. Said I could have the picture."

"How can you stand to be there? In the park?"

"Believe it or not." She says softly, "The good memories are why I like to go back."

Gale is staring at Addalyn in a new light. Like he's never seen her before. He leans forward across the table and kisses her cheek.

"Did you get his body back?" It sounds like such an odd question but at least then you could look at your loved one, one last time. I never got the chance with dad or Prim and I regret it. I don't even remember saying I love you to either of them though I'm sure I did. It would just be nice to have the chance to say a proper goodbye to their face. As cold and white as it may be.

"There was nothing left to bury. I buried my engagement ring instead. Under the willow tree."

A stiff, heavy silence drapes across the room, weighing on each individuals shoulders. Making them bear it. Because, really, what is there left to say? I'm sorry for your loss? That's terrible? People die every day, some in more unfortunate circumstances than others. And Alexandreus senior's just happened to be a tragedy. But how many other men and women died in the Rebellion that had families to get back to? The image of Prim at the age of six floats into my head. Small, innocent and just smiling as she helped my mother prep dinner. It holds no meaning other than, perhaps to show a nice memory. I never seem to be in control of my own thoughts.

"Now you know," Gale remarks with a hard edge.

I have no words for him. Disgust. I'm disgusted that he would even do something like that when Addalyn is still wiping her tears on her napkin. I had no idea the amount of hate still bottled in him. All I can do is feel sympathy for her. That her loss came at such a bad time.

Gale rises from his chair without so much as a glance in our direction. He pats Addalyn on the back, like he understands how hard this is for her. He doesn't understand. If I killed his family and Addalyn then he would begin. Still not meeting my eyes, though I'm steadily glaring at him, he begins, almost as if we aren't there. "I'll need that album back."

With a movement, near agitation, Peeta practically flings the book at him. It slides across the table and jabs Gale in the leg. When I look at Peeta it's a shock to see him looking so furious. The one hand I can see if clenched tight. Usually Peeta is the one calming me down. Is he finally fed up? For one, terrifying, heart-stopping moment he reminds me of the hijacked version of him. Insane, ruthless, unreachable in the constant rage and war inside himself. To kill or not to kill? I guess that part is still inside him. Small, dormant but there.

Gale scoops up the book in one hand, the other bringing Addalyn to her feet. "I'm going to bed," He tells her. "I'll see you soon."

"Of course. Check on Alex for me." Her voice shakes. Slightly in a determined steadiness, but shakes.

Once he's gone Addalyn flops back onto her seat and stabs at the rest of her dinner with a vengeance I've never seen before in her. Keeping up the ruse that everything is perfectly OK and natural. I follow her example though the dinner doesn't taste that good cold.

After a few silent moments Addalyn finally says, "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be," Peeta says, aiming for sympathetic and calm and barely reaching it.

"He-can-be s-s-so ridiculous," She chokes nearing the breaking point. She's on the edge of the cliff. Unable to be pulled back. Though we're both grasping at the hem of her clothes to try. I don't want to see her break down. Don't want to see her hit rock bottom because I can tell that won't be pretty. Pregnant women are emotionally unstable and given what Addalyn just went through it would be even worse.

"You've just noticed?" My voice is unintentionally sharp and it doesn't help improve the situation. Made it worse. Pushed her over the edge. Watch her fall.

"Well, no," She says with a shaky laugh, surprising me. She gives up the false pretenses. Finally. We're free to act as we wish. Not that anything was stopping me before, but Addalyn seems to have made it final. If she will cry then I can take my anger out on Gale for her sake. I can act however I please, whether driven my desperation or rage. I want to scream after Gale, call him terrible things that I should never say, but I don't. It's only Addalyn that stops me.

"May I take your plates?" She gathers up the dishes without waiting for us to reply, and I can hear her dumping them in the kitchen.

A twitch catches my eye and I turn my head to watch as Peeta discreetly slides two square sheets of paper into his pocket. I can't see what they are but it's a good guess that they're photos.

"Peeta," I mouth in disbelief, not daring to use a normal voice. Addalyn's still in the kitchen within hearing distance and a scolding tone would be suspicious.

Peeta puts a finger to his lips, silencing my protest. I can't believe it. Can't believe what I've just seen. Peeta is the last person I would think to steal. Maybe when we were younger and starving, but not now.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Addalyn pokes her blonde head in the doorway, watching us both jolt like we've been caught.

I shake my head and raise my wine glass. "I'm good."

We drift over to the living room and try our best to chat pleasantly, though all of us know our hearts aren't in it. I'm still reeling from the onslaught of information that's been handed to us. There's long spaces of silence, all of us grasping at straws for conversation. I stop fumbling and stop trying.

Alexandreus isn't Gale's child. Gale didn't move on just like that. He took time to recover. It makes him more…human.

Addalyn yawns and checks the clock, her face etched with tiredness. It's amazing she's been able to stay awake this long. She's fighting off the moment when she'll finally have to crawl in bed next to Gale. She's upset with him. I can see it. The couch isn't an option for her, not with the stomach.

"I better go to bed," She says with a great amount of reluctance. "You two will be fine on your own right?"

"We'll be great thanks." Peeta smiles.

It does her wonders. Foot on the bottom step of the stairs she says, "sorry about, well, everything." She murmurs, leaving us alone. The first apology.

After the bedroom door closes upstairs with a resounding thud Peeta gets up and wanders into the kitchen. At first I thought he was just going to get a glass of water or something but when I hear the kitchen cupboards opening and closing softly and the tap running I get up to see what he's up to.

"Exactly what are you doing?" I demand in a hiss.

"Doing the dishes," Peeta replies, plunging his hands into the soapy water.

"Why?" I ask. It's Addalyn's house. If she wanted to do her dishes she would've done them as soon as we were done with dinner. And it just seems wrong. To do the dishes when they never asked you. Most people don't take that well. If you're a guest doesn't the host insist that you never do such a thing?

"She was too overwhelmed to do them so I figured I'd do them a favour." He says simply.

"Doing _her_ a favour," I correct, leaping up onto the counter beside him.

He heaves a big breath of air and looks at me. He looks older, like all the energy has been drained out of him, leaving just an empty shell behind him. "Yes."

"It's all so ridiculous."

"It's _tiring_ Katniss," Peeta says, exasperated. "I haven't slept aside from a couple hours. It's tiring to go through all this and pretend it's all OK. When it's not."

It makes me feel better to know that I've at least gotten more sleep than him. Thinking back on it I can vaguely recall him tossing and turning last night. Finally abandoning sleep and just pacing. It's hazy as I was sleeping soundly for most of the night. Ironic seeing how these past days should be the worst sleep. "I know," I agree. It's tiring, it's ridiculous, and it's confusing, it's depressing, it's painful and it's just plain stupid.

"You're not helping," He tells me in a tone of fairness, so that it's impossible to contradict him.

"What do you mean?" I snap.

"Have you realized you've been walking around with a sour lemon look? You haven't stopped _scowling._ Just scream at him and get it out so we can go _home._ I know you won't go until you do. You won't let it go, will you?" Tired. He sound so tired. Like he's ready to just give up. I feel the same way, this is so pointless but I know he will never let me. If I wasn't as tired as him I would be angry at him for this, but Peeta has been through a lot these past days.

"Of course I won't let it go." I retort, angrily. "He just left. He killed my sister and he _hurt_ me!" Peeta knows what I mean. Not physically. Mentally, emotionally. Traumatized me. And I want to tell him that. It's not even so much about revenge as it's just finally letting him know. Letting it all loose.

"I'll stay as long as it takes but it's painful." He says as if I didn't already know this. Of course I know. It's painful for me too.

"Well no one asked you to come along," I spit, more harshly than I mean to.

Unexpectedly Peeta laughs and gives me a tender look. All I want to do is deck him for that. "Do you really think I would be OK with you coming here all by yourself? You'd never come home."

"What? So you think I'd ditch you and stay with Gale?" It's a low remark but I say it anyway. Anything to get rid of that dumb smile. It's on his mind. I know.

"No." He says smile slackening into a tight line. "I trust you…but…it's him I don't trust. If you went alone I wasn't sure what state you would come back in. Hurt. Depressed. Confused."

I don't say anything to that. Because what is there to say? Peeta's already giving so much to give me this chance. Giving up a couple days of salary for this, not that that matters, we're doing pretty well.

"You know what?" I say, legs kicking methodically against the counter doors.

"What?" He asks rinsing off the last plate and stacking it on the others.

"I might take Addalyn up on the two week stay." I say, shocking even myself as I say it. "I don't know how long this could take. But you could go home if you want."

"No I'll stay. I'll just have to call Mitch and Hazelle in the morning and tell them. It seems Gale lost the argument."

"A once in a lifetime event," I assure him. Hopping off the counters I stifle a yawn. I land wrong and pain shoots up my ankle, I've overshot my landing and flew forward. Resisting the urge to cry out I grab the countertop. I'll manage, it's not broken, Gale just twisted it way too far. Sprained at the most. Trying to keep the pain from my voice I say; "I'll be upstairs."

Grimacing I leave the kitchen ignoring Peeta's concerned, "Katniss?" following me up the stairs. Alone I can finally limp to our room. The door at the end of the hall opens and a tall figure darts out of the room.

Gale surveys me for a second, eyes traveling down to my ankle and the gingerly way I'm putting weight on it. Eyes right back up to my face with no sorry. Nothing. His face is nothing. It says nothing. It's just an empty slate.

Having no spare words, kind or angry, I cross in front of him and kick open the door. Words swell into my mouth, come crashing down on my lips, unable to hold them in place. They fly into the air and fill the hallway, circling our heads. "I can't believe you," I spit through clenched teeth. Shaking my head with disgust I slam the door shut behind me. "I can't believe you Gale Hawthorne," I say quietly, to myself now.

I can feel him in the hallway. Feel his eyes bore into the back of the door where my back rests. He doesn't answer and I wonder if he feels the same way I do.

"I can't believe you either," He says to himself, after a few seconds there's a quiet knock on the door followed by the turn of a door handle. I can do nothing but step away and watch it open. Expecting to see Gale. Wishing it was him so I could confront him. Let him know how disgusting he is.

It's not Gale. And not for one second did I actually think it would be. Peeta closes the door behind him. Brief glimpse of Gale's face as he stares at me in apparent shock before the door closes. Good. Another door closes down the hall.

Peeta stares at the door for a moment, biting his lip. I can see a petal of blood blossom. "I almost feel sorry for him." He says after a long minute, sitting on the bed and pulling off his top.

"You're kidding me!" I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him in disbelief.

"I said _almost_," He shakes his head. "I mean if you look at it from his point of view it's like he's being attacked in his own house. From every angle. And then us showing up on his doorstep, married probably set off a couple of things that he was trying to forget. I mean he lost you and packed up and moved to a place he hated."

"That was by his choice though." I say sitting next to him.

"Alright so most of it was by choice."

"Most?"

"He probably didn't want to leave in the first place. But we were in Twelve and he probably thought it wasn't big enough. He'd run in to us too often. Think about how painful that would be."

"Then he shouldn't have left. His family is there." I have no sympathy for him. It's all gone.

"Yes but his dad died there."

"Do you see me running? My mother left me, my dad died there, your entire family died in that town. We stayed."

"It's different. A broken heart is different."

I roll my eyes and fall back onto the bed. "Why are you arguing this point?"

"I'm trying to see it his way." He says simply. Shrugging his shoulder and falling back next to me. Staring at the same point on the ceiling as I am.

"He created the bombs." I say, tearing down any hope of redemption Gale had.

His voice is a whisper. "I know."

I roll off the bed, catching myself at the last second. I pull my bag towards me and paw through for something to sleep in.

"But that doesn't mean he sent the OK for the bombs to kill her."

My eyes sting, why did I have to bring this topic up? "That doesn't matter," I say harshly pulling off my top and replacing it immediately with the other. "He created them. It's enough." When I pull on my pajama pants my foot catches, ankle twisting. Closing my eyes a flare of red burns across my eyelids. Red from pain. Blood forms in my mouth, sticky and sweet. I find myself biting the inside of my cheek and stop myself at once. I grit my teeth and yank the pants up. Pulling the drawstring tight.

I hoist myself onto the bed and swing my legs over.

"Katniss what happened to your ankle?" Peeta grabs my hand in alarm. Eyes travelling past my knees, taking in the swollen mass. I don't really have an ankle anymore.

"I twisted it," I lie defensively. "When I jumped down from the counters."

Peeta glares at me. His face furious. I try to keep a steady face as I look back in his eyes. Make him understand. Which he won't. I know he won't.

I sigh and lean forward, running my fingers through his silky hair. Fingers snagging on the loose knots. "You hair is graying." I comment trying to shift the subject away from this one.

One of his hands grabs both of my wrists, pulling them from his hair. He doesn't release my wrists. "Don't," He says in a tone I've never heard before. He sounds close to snapping. "Try and change the subject."

He begins to mutter under his breath in an incoherent stream. "Does this hurt?" He asks bending my ankle. It takes all my restraint not to jerk away from him. Despite saying nothing he seems to notice my pain.

"He hurt you didn't he?" He whispers almost to himself. I don't answer hoping maybe he'll just let it drop. "Didn't he?" He demands, my wrists slowly turning numb.

I yank my wrists out of his grasp, rubbing them, trying to work feeling into them again. I don't answer him directly. "It's no big deal Peeta." Trying to shrug it off is my only other option.

"No big deal?" He says taking deep breaths in an effort to calm his rage. "Katniss. He hurt…you." He appears to be having difficulties getting those words out. Like they're causing him pain.

"Who said Gale hurt me?" Why am I still bothering with this lie? Peeta sees right through it. It would be easier to admit it.

"Why are you lying?"

This is the weird part of all this. He knows I'm lying. I know I'm lying but suddenly I feel defensive. Like I suddenly have to prove myself. "I'm not lying." I growl leaning in toward him.

"Oh really?" He breathes sounding dubious.

"Yes," With gritted teeth, barely moving lips I lean in closer. Glaring harder than ever.

He gets up with a huff, almost stomping his way across the room. At first I think he's just pacing until I realize there's a method in it. He's moving toward the door. To do what I don't know exactly but it can't be hard to guess.

"No!"

He turns looking surprised by my protest. "What?"

"I said no. Not tonight."

He raises an eyebrow. "Katniss I don't hate many people."

I stare at him in sudden confusion. What does this have to do with any of this? If he's trying to change the conversation it's only making me more irritated.

He takes a seat on the end of the bed. The sudden shift of weight, so close to my ankle, sends a throbbing stab of red hot pain up my ankle. "I don't hate anyone actually. I just severely dislike some. Coin, Snow, Cato -"

"Gale." I finish his sentence bringing my knees up to my chest and hugging them.

He doesn't answer me, but he leans forward to capture my lips. It's difficult with my knees in the way. "You're seeing a healer tomorrow."

"No. It'll be fine." I say firmly. I don't want to give Gale the satisfaction of knowing he's hurt me.

"If you don't do something about it, it'll get worse."

"Well then I'll get an icepack and sleep with it."

Peeta shakes his head. "Forget it. I'll go find one."

When the door clicks shut behind him I turn over onto my stomach, burying my face into my pillow. Why does everything have to be a big deal? Not everything has to be complicated.

How can Gale be so coldhearted? Does he really despise me so much that he would put my humiliation before Addalyn's own sorrow and regret? Just for the sake of making me embarrassed? And I know the truth. The cold hard truth. I don't want to face it but I know it's there. Right there. I know that Gale, when riled up enough crosses boundaries he would never usually. I know my answer, hard as it is; yes. Yes he would.

**I have big news on my profile if you want to check it out. And a poll for you guys to vote on as an early holiday gift if you want. I didn't do anything last year which makes me sad but I'm here to make it up this year. Anyway thank you to my readers. I couldn't do this without you.**


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